Page 54 of Lords of Ruin: Cherished

“Now isn’t a good time.”

“It has to be now.” His gaze flicks to the bloodstained chair, his face paling. “What the fuck happened here?”

“You came here with something to say. Say it.”

Vincent hesitates, then exhales. “I need your help.”

I scoff. “Now that’s a first.”

“I need your help killing my father.”

I tilt my head, studying him. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious.”

I step toward him. “And why the fuck would I help you with that?”

“Because he threatened to hurt Willow if I don’t marry some socialite to keep up appearances.”

I snarl. “If he’ll hurt Willow, then marry whoever he wants. Think about someone other than yourself.”

Vincent exhales. “I can’t live without her.”

A slow, dangerous smile tugs at my lips.

“Alright,” I murmur. “I’ll help you kill him.”

“But remember this, Beaumont.” I lean in, my voice a low rasp. “Your ass is mine now. I am the new King.”

Vincent and I have just reached the door when it bursts open, nearly hitting us both. Willow stands there, her normally perfect appearance disheveled—hair windblown, eyes wide with an emotion I can't immediately place. Fear? Confusion?

"Cast, who are the Raiders because they just—" She stops mid-sentence as her eyes land on Vincent. The color drains from her face.

Before I can react, she darts past me and throws herself into Vincent's arms. He catches her automatically, his surprised expression quickly turning to concern as she clings to him.

"Willow?" Vincent's voice is gentle as he holds her, one hand moving to stroke her hair soothingly. “What happened?”

She ignores him. “Where have you been? I’ve missed you.”

Vincent exhales shakily, holding onto her like she’s the only thing keeping him standing. Like, for the first time in his life, he actually feels something real.

“I thought—” Her voice breaks, muffled against his shoulder. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

He presses his lips to her hair, his grip tightening. “I’m here, princess. I’m here.”

I force myself to exhale, shaking off the bitter taste in my mouth. I should be used to this by now. Used to the way she runs to him first, used to the way he holds her like she belongs to him.

But I’m not.

And right now, I don’t have the patience for this shit.

I step forward, crossing my arms. “What the fuck happened, Willow?”

She pulls back from Vincent just enough to look at me, her eyes still wide, still filled with something too close to fear. Her breath is uneven, her hands still gripping his shirt like a lifeline.

“The Raiders,” she says, her voice breathless. “They shot at Jasmine.”

Vincent’s entire body goes rigid. My own pulse spikes, my hands clenching at my sides as the weight of her words sinks in.

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