Page 34 of Lords of Ruin: Cherished

“Cast, trust me-”

“Trust you?” I let out a humorless laugh. “I did and you married our girl and tried to steal her away.”

“Cast, I didn’t know.” His eyes are wide as he steps forward to me but I shake my head no.

“You didn’t know what, fucker?” I whisper. “You didn’t know I would find out? Or you didn’t know I would tell Willow, which one?”

“Cast!” Damien’s voice barks over the commotion.

“Yeah?” I call back, my eyes trained on the hollowed out state of the man I once called my brother.

“Take a walk!” Damien calls back, his voice firm, telling me that if I say no, he is going to kick my ass.

“You got it,brother.”I call back, keeping my eyes on Vincent the entire time.

11

WILLOW

It's been a week since the surgery, and I’ve barely had a chance to breathe. The days are a blur of pain meds, dull hospital lights, and nurses who come in at the worst times. My body aches like I’ve been through a war, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of being able to breathe without struggling to catch my breath.

I am told I am lucky. My surgery was easier than others and my recovery seems faster, whatever improvements they made seems to be blending well with my body. But I’m not sure how I feel about that. I spent the first few days in and out of sleep, a haze of confusion and half-conscious thoughts. The doctors kept reassuring me that everything went as planned, that I was healing, that I’d be fine.

But I haven’t seen Vincent.

I know, in the back of my mind, he’s out there. He has to be. I can feel it in my chest, in that space where my heart used to live, before it became a pile of dust. He should be here, shouldn't he? He should be standing by the door, trying topretend he’s not dying to touch me, to hold my hand, to tell me everything is going to be okay.

But I haven’t seen him. Not even a text. Not a whisper of his presence.

I try not to think about it too much, though, because I know I’m not really alone. Cast hasn’t left my side. Not once. Damien has been staring at me from the corner of my room, not saying a word since I’ve woken up and I don’t know how to feel about it. I want to tell him everything, feel the closeness we have been feeling for the last couple of weeks, but he stares at me like I betrayed him, like we’re back in high school.

I avoid his eyes, staring at the sterile instruments on the counter, trying to focus on the soft voice of Dr. Peters as she works. Her hands are steady as she adjusts the wires and monitors, checking the new mechanical heart embedded in my chest.

“Heart rate’s steady,” Dr. Peters mutters to herself as she taps a few buttons on the monitor. “Tightening the connections here—should be ready to go soon.”

The anxiety I’ve been trying to suppress creeps back up, gnawing at the edges of my mind. Where is he? Why hasn’t he come? He should be here, shouldn’t he? He should be the one sitting beside me, watching over me. After everything we’ve been through, I thought he’d be here. Maybe he’s angry, maybe he’s avoiding me—maybe he’s already moved on.

I can’t help it. The thoughts come in waves, each one worse than the last. What if I’ve pushed him too far? What if this... what if all of this was too much for him to handle?

“Willow, focus.” Dr. Peters’ voice pulls me from my spiraling thoughts, and I force my attention back to her, to the coolpress of her hands on my chest as she continues her work. “How are you feeling now, Willow?”

I force a smile, one that I hope is convincing enough. “Better,” I say, my voice hoarse, but it’s not a lie. Physically, I feel a little stronger. The dizzy spells are fading, the pain duller, less persistent.

“That’s good to hear,” Dr. Peters says. She taps a few more keys on the monitor. “Your vitals are holding steady. No complications to report. This is exactly what we want to see.”

I inhale deeply, trying to ignore the tightness in my chest. "That's good," I mutter, forcing myself to relax. "So when can I go home?"

Dr. Peters straightens up, her expression thoughtful. "In a couple of days, barring any setbacks. You’ll need to come in for weekly check-ins, though, just to monitor your progress. But you’re healing well, Willow. The heart seems to be syncing nicely with your body."

I nod absently, not fully processing her words. My mind is elsewhere, fixated on the empty space beside me where Vincent should be. The ache is still there, the constant reminder that something is off, that something important is missing.

"That sounds good," I manage to say, keeping my voice neutral. "I’ll look forward to getting out of here."

Dr. Peters smiles at me, oblivious to the turmoil swirling inside. "We’ll give you a little more time to rest, but you’re on track. Just keep monitoring your energy levels and avoid any strenuous activity for a while."

I give a weak smile and nod, but I can’t focus. Not with theworry eating at me. Not with the knowledge that Vincent is still missing, and I have no idea why.

As Dr. Peters gathers her things to leave, Cast shifts closer. His brow furrows, a look of concern flickering in his eyes. I can feel his gaze on me, but I don’t want to meet it. Not when I’m struggling with this emptiness, this hurt I can’t explain.

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