Page 87 of Lords of Ruin: Cherished

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VINCENT

Ipace, my steps heavy, the sound of my boots echoing through the sterile, cold waiting room. The lights flicker overhead, casting an unflattering, harsh glow on everything, but I don’t care. I’m too fucking anxious to care about anything.

Willow’s in there—on the table, on the edge of life and death, and all I can do is wait.

I drag a hand through my hair, tugging at the roots like it might help me focus.Focus.Because right now, my mind is a fucking mess. The second they rolled her into surgery, something inside me snapped. I’ve never been this scared. Not even close.

Cast and Damien don’t say anything. They don’t need to. We’re all thinking the same thing. All wondering the same fucking thing. Will she make it?

And then, Cast speaks up. “If she makes it… if she pulls through this…”

I look at him. He looks at me, his face tight, his shoulders tense.

“We propose,” he says, voice rough, like the words themselves are heavy.

I stop pacing, stare at him, at Damien, who’s just standing there, arms crossed, not saying anything. But I can see it in his eyes. He’s fucking with the same thought.

I don’t know how to respond at first. My mouth goes dry. All I can think of is Willow, lying in that goddamn operating room, too weak to hold on to life without our help. And I’m supposed to think about proposing to her?

“Are you serious?” I finally manage to rasp. “After everything she’s been through, we’re gonna justpropose? Is that really what you think she needs right now?”

Cast doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. “Yeah. It’s what she needs. What we all need. If she makes it, we’re done playing games. No more holding back.”

Damien steps forward, his gaze locked on me. “We’re doing this, Vincent. All of us. Together.Ifshe makes it, we give her what she deserves. No more doubts. No more waiting. No more fighting.”

I want to argue. To tell them how fucking insane this sounds. But the truth is, I can’t. Because deep down, I know they’re right.

But then a dark thought hits me.

What if she’s the one who doesn’t make it through? What if my heart—my broken, fucking failing heart—was never supposed to let me love someone like her?

I swallow hard, trying to choke down the panic that rises in my chest. “But what if she doesn’t make it?” The words come out too harsh, too cold.

Damien’s eyes widen, his lips pressing into a firm line. “Don’t think like that, Vincent.” He steps closer to me, his voice a little sharper than normal. “You can’t.”

Cast’s tone is strangely calm, like he’s already made peace with whatever comes next. “If she dies,” he says, “I’ll resurrect her.”

I blink, thrown off guard by his words. He’s not even joking. He means it. But how could he possibly?—

Damien’s voice cuts through the tension. “Wecan’tthink like that. Not now.” His voice is low, dangerous even. “You want her to fight for herself? You have to fight, too. Don’t let your fear control you.”

I run a hand through my hair, frustration clawing at my insides. “It’s hard not to think like that, Damien. She’sso closeto losing everything. We’ve been this close before.”

Cast stands up from his chair, stepping toward me with that determined look in his eyes. “And we’ll be here, every single fucking time. Until she pulls through.”

Damien nods. “She’s going to make it. We have to believe that. You have to.”

I look between them, my chest tight. It’s hard, harder than anything I’ve ever had to do, but I know they’re right. I can’t let my fear control me. Not now.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Yeah. Okay. We wait. And if only she makes it…” I look at them both, the weight of it sinking in. “We make sure she knows she’sours.”

Cast nods. “Exactly.”

Damien’s lips twitch into the smallest of smiles. “And if they both make it?”

Cast looks up, his eyes serious, unwavering. “And we count that as our last lucky star, and we make sure we never take it for granted again.”

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