Page 50 of Lords of Ruin: Cherished

And then Conner’s voice crackles through the phone on the first ring. "Yeah?"

“We’re heading downtown,” Jasmine says, her tone cool and businesslike. "Meet us at the usual place."

There’s a beat of silence before Conner responds with an easy, almost amused drawl. "On my way."

"Don’t keep us waiting," Jasmine says, hanging up without waiting for a response. She looks back at the rest of us, her eyes settling on Landon. “We’ll deal with the Raiders later. For now, we need to get out of here.”

Landon opens his mouth to protest, but Brooke cuts him off again, this time with a firm hand on his shoulder. "You’re not in any shape to be going anywhere, Landon. You need to get a grip."

Jasmine takes a step back, turning toward the door with a resigned sigh. "Let’s go, Willow. We’ve got things to do."

We drive through the upscale part of town, where boutiques line the streets and French bakeries spill out their sugary scents. The kind of place where giggling rich girls, all perfect highlights and designer bags, used to make us roll our eyes back in high school. And yet here we are, sitting in a swanky diner that serves the best burgers I’ve ever had. It’s strange, but part of me can’t help but laugh. We’ve become those girls. And as I sink into the plush booth, I can’t decide if I should be proud or disappointed. But in this moment, I forgive us just a little more for "selling out”, just because smash burgers are a weakness for me.

“Jasmine, if you ever mistreat Brooke I am beating your ass and stealing her for myself,” I hiss, taking another bite of my burger which drips down my chin in all its savory goodness.

“Shut up, Will.” Jasmine rolls her eyes, throwing a fry at me. “You’re not even bisexual.”

“Nope but I can be Brooke-sexual.” I wink and Brooke ears tint the prettiest shade of pink.

Jasmine’s eyes narrow on Brooke’s pink cheeks and pinches her chin, drawing her ear close to her lips as she whisperssomething in Brooke’s ear so dirty her face pales and eyes widen. I giggle, dipping a fry into my shake because it makes all the sense in the world that Jasmine is a switch with more dom-like tendencies. It’s also one of the hottest things about my bestie, and if I was into girls, well I’d be the first one waiting in line to see the action.

"What did I tell you about handing out punishments in public?" A thick Irish accent drapes over me like velvet, smooth and commanding. Jasmine’s lips immediately curl, her expression downright sinful as she turns toward the source. Andholy cheese on a cracker, I see why.

Standing there in full uniform is the most devastatingly handsome cop I have ever laid eyes on. And trust me, my guys—my Chessmen—are walking Greek gods, but this man? He’s the living, breathing myth of Hercules. Broad shoulders, sharp jaw, that impossible mix of rugged and refined. Talk aboutto protect and serve.

I drag my strawberry milkshake closer to me and take a big sip to cool down my jets, or I will be jumping the first of my guys that I see.

Jasmine pouts, “But sir, she is already so wet for me.”

The man snorts, sliding into the booth next to me, his green eyes adorned with discipline and want. “When is that a surprise, Jasmine?”

Jasmine pulls her fingers from underneath the table, and they glisten with a shine I know all too well. Brooke refuses to look in my direction, and Jasmine keeps a smug look on her face as she starts to lift the fingers to her mouth, but the man stops her, roughly jerking on Jasmine’s wrist and licking Brooke’s wetness off instead. The man and Jasmine never break eye contact and I know if we were anywhere remotely private theywould dismiss me, slide everything off the table and be going at it like animals.

“Hey,” I sing, my eyes darting between Jasmine and the man. “Who are you?”

“You didn’t tell her about me,Mo Shladtha,” the man clicks his tongue. “Strike one.”

My body shakes because did he just say what I think he did?

“No, she knows about you,” Jasmine rushes out, looking at me with wide eyes and then it all clicks; Irish accent, green eyes, cop badge.

“Conner?” I question.

“At your service.” He winks, Jasmine snarls and I think I unlocked a voyeurism kink because I would love nothing more than to see these three go at it. “Sorry about Jasmine, I am still trying to fix that attitude of hers.”

“Good luck, she’s been a cunt since high school,” I snort, dipping another fry into my shake.

“What can I say,” he sighs. “I love a challenge.”

Three hours later, Brooke, Jasmine, and I sit in our salon chairs, freshly styled and feeling brand new. Conner leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching over us like the world’s most intimidating chaperone.

I turn my head slightly, admiring my reflection in the mirror. My black curls are fuller now, cut into layers that frame my face and add a bounce to every movement. The biggest change? My bangs and color. Wispy, feathered, and falling justabove my brows, and my highlights—no more faded pink. Instead, vibrant streaks of deep red weave through my curls, bold and fiery. The color shift makes me feeldifferent—a little sharper, a little more dangerous. Paired with my freshly painted crimson nails, I look like trouble, the kind that smiles sweetly before ruining your life.

Jasmine smirks as she takes me in. “Well, well, look who’s embracing herfemme fataleera,” she teases, twirling a section of my hair around her finger. “Gonna start breaking hearts and collecting secrets now?”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the slow grin spreading across my lips. “Maybe. You never know.”

Jasmine, of course, is looking different herself. Her pixie cut is gone, replaced by a sleek chin-length bob with layered extensions. The ends flip out in a way that gives her a playful, effortlessly cool vibe, but it’s the color that really does it. The fox-blue tips stand out against her blonde, striking and bold, just like her. She tilts her head, admiring herself in the mirror, before running a hand through the strands. “Damn, I lookhot.”

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