Page 51 of Lords of Ruin: Cherished

“You do,” Brooke agrees, standing up and fluffing out her own hair, which has been transformed into a cascade of enormous, glossy 1960s-style curls. The deep ginger waves frame her face perfectly, adding an air of old Hollywood glamor that makes her look like she just stepped off a vintage movie set.

Jasmine’s smirk deepens as she leans in, letting her fingers trail over one of Brooke’s curls. “I always knew you were a bombshell, butdamn, babe. If I didn’t already love you, I’d be in trouble.”

Brooke arches a perfectly sculpted brow, the corner of hermouth quirking up. “Onlynowyou’re in trouble?” she muses, flicking a curl over her shoulder.

Jasmine grins, slow and wicked. “I’m always in trouble where you’re concerned.”

Conner clears his throat from the doorway, barely sparing us a glance. “You girls done flirting, or should I come back in another three hours?”

Jasmine snickers, while Brooke just smirks, unbothered. I shake my head, running my fingers through my new bangs. “Let’s go before we end up makinghimwait.”

Jasmine sighs dramatically. “Fine. But just so we’re clear, we all lookdangerouslygood.”

Jasmine pushes up from her salon chair, smoothing a hand down the sleek curve of her bob before spinning on the balls of her feet and striking a playful pose. “Well, Conner?” she purrs, tossing him a smirk as she twirls, the fox-blue tips of her hair catching the light in a flash of electric color. “How do I look?”

Conner barely shifts from his place by the door, arms still crossed, but his gaze flickers over her, slow and measured.

“Like trouble,” he murmurs, his voice low enough to send a shiver down my spine.

Jasmine grins, strutting forward with exaggerated confidence, stopping just inches away from him. She tilts her head, letting her newly sleek bob brush against her jawline as she leans in close. “Good,” she whispers, her voice dripping with challenge. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

Conner exhales through his nose, a quiet laugh escaping him,before he reaches up and tugs playfully on one of the flipped-out ends of her hair. “You never do,Mo Shladtha.”

Conner pulls open the salon door, stepping aside as Jasmine sashays past him with a satisfied smirk. The cool night air rushes in, carrying the scent of freshly fallen rain and city asphalt. I follow behind, glancing back at Brooke as she slides her black Amex across the counter, her perfectly manicured fingers tapping impatiently against the glass.

“Hurry up, babe,” Jasmine teases, flicking one of Brooke’s curls as she leans against the doorframe. “Your sugar mama duties are taking too long.”

Brooke rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, signing the receipt with a dramatic flourish before slipping the card back into her bra. “Someone has to keep you in luxury,” she quips, strutting toward us, her heels clicking against the polished floor.

Conner watches the exchange with an amused shake of his head before stepping onto the sidewalk, his posture shifting—subtle, but noticeable. His relaxed stance tightens, shoulders going rigid, and I catch the way his eyes scan the street, sharp and assessing.

A prickle of unease crawls down my spine.

The street is quiet—too quiet. The usual hum of city life feels muted, as if the air itself is holding its breath.

Then, in the space of a single heartbeat, everything shatters.

The roar of an engine. The flash of headlights cutting through the darkness.

Then—

Bang. Bang.Bang.

Gunfire rips through the air, the sharp cracks echoing off the buildings. Glass explodes from the salon’s front window, raining down in deadly shards as Brooke lets out a startled gasp.

“Get down!” Conner roars, grabbing Jasmine and yanking her into his chest just as bullets rip through the space where she was standing.

I drop to the pavement, my pulse hammering in my ears. Brooke hits the ground beside me, her hand clutching my wrist in a vise-like grip. I can hear the tires screeching as the car peels away, disappearing into the night as fast as it came.

Then, silence.

A tense, suffocating silence.

Conner is the first to move, his body still a shield around Jasmine as he slowly lifts his head, his gun already in his hand. “Everyone okay?” His voice is low, controlled, but there’s an unmistakable edge of fury beneath it.

“I—yeah,” I breathe, my hands shaking as I push up onto my knees. Brooke does the same, her face barely restraining her anger as she brushes glass from her arm.

Jasmine, still pressed against Conner’s chest, exhales sharply before shoving back, her blue eyes blazing with something sharp—fear, anger, maybe both. “We need to get you two home. Now.”

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