Page 67 of Lords of Ruin: Savage

For the first time, resolution flickers behind his eyes. Something lethal.

He picks up his beer, takes a slow sip, then snickers. “What do you think?”

I skate closer, the ice beneath my feet almost seeming to ripple with the weight of the tension in the air. Cast watches me, his jaw clenched tight, the weight of the situation settling on his shoulders like a heavy cloak.

"You can’t kill her," I say, the words coming out before I even think about them.

Cast’s eyes snap to mine, narrowing dangerously. "What did you just say?"

I skate to a sharp stop in front of Cast, planting my feet as my pulse hammers in my throat. His anger crackles like a live wire, but I don’t back down.

"You can’t kill your sister," I say, voice calm despite the storm inside me. "Even after everything—she’s still your blood."

His jaw tightens, but determination flickers in his eyes. "She put a blade to Willow’s throat. She’s been pulling strings in the shadows. How the hell am I supposed to just let that go?"

"You don’t have to forgive her," I counter. "But you can’t kill her without knowing why. What pushed her to this?"

He scoffs, shaking his head. "I’m done making excuses. Done fixing things that can’t be fixed."

"You’re not fixing anything by killing her," I say, voice sharp. "You’re just proving you’ve already lost. But you haven’t—not yet."

His grip tightens around the bottle in his hand. I see the war inside him—the fury, the hurt, the last shred of family he doesn’t want to lose.

"You don’t get it," he mutters, almost to himself. "She’s dangerous."

"I know," I say. "But she’s still your sister. And you’re still her brother."

The words hang heavy between us. He looks away first, swallowing his turmoil. But before either of us can speak, the soft click of heels against the floor cuts through the silence.

I turn.

Standing in the dim light is someone I never thought I’d see again.

Willow’s mother.

We both turn toward her, and I feel the tension in the air snap taut.

“How the fuck-” I growl, but she cuts me off.

“Hockey practice schedules are public, so is your relationship with my daughter.” She says tight lipped before turning to look at Cast. “You also have a relationship with my daughter, is that right?”

“I don’t think that is any of your business,” Cast growls, his protective instincts flaring up at the mere mention of Willow. “What do you want?”

She doesn’t flinch, though. Instead, she stands tall, her gaze meeting his with a quiet determination. “I need you to talk Willow into meeting with me… Please.”

I can’t help the incredulous laugh that bubbles up in my chest. “Talk to Willow? After everything you’ve done? You abandoned her; no one is helping you do shit.”

Her eyes flick to me for just a second, and a sense of failure flickers in them—a flash of vulnerability that quickly fades. “I don’t expect her to want to see me again. But I need you to convince her. She’s my daughter, and I need her to know that I’m sorry. I need to explain. To make things right.”

Cast steps forward, his body tense, every muscle in his frame coiled like a spring. “You think she gives a damn about what youhave to say? No. You don’t get to just waltz in here and ask for forgiveness like it’s nothing.”

“I’m not asking for forgiveness,” she replies, her voice growing softer, but still firm. “I’m asking for a chance to talk to her. To explain why I did what I did. She deserves to know the truth. All of it.”

I step in between them, my eyes narrowed. “Willow doesn’t need to hear your excuses. She’s been through enough. And if you think you can just walk in here and have everything magically fixed, you’re wrong.”

There’s a long, pregnant silence as we all stand there, the weight of the situation pressing in from every direction. But then, something in Willow’s mother’s face changes. Her hand trembles slightly as she reaches up to touch her chest, and I notice the faint, unmistakable hint of blood staining the corner of her mouth.

“Are you alright?” I ask, stepping forward instinctively.

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