Page 72 of Ruin My Life
“Quite easily,” I say casually, pretending to pick some lint off my shirt. “Considering the hotel usesmysecurity system, getting in was child’s play. Tracking your room took a little longer, but once I had your face and name—Calvin Brenner—it was a cake walk.”
He flinches at his own name, snarling.
I can’t tell if it’s from fear or the hit to his ego.
Brianna still hasn’t moved. She’s staring at me like she’s seen a ghost. That fractured look in her eyes doesn’t belong to the woman who breaks firewalls for fun and seduces gangsters into spilling their secrets.
It’s the girl underneath—whoever she really is.
It only lasts a second. As soon as the knife presses too deep and a bright line of blood curves against her throat, she blinks, her gaze snapping away from mine.
The smell of her blood hits first—sharp, metallic,wrong.
Calvin’s a nobody to me. Not Songbird, or at least not old blood. I know their top dogs. A job like this wouldn’t be handed to an amateur.
If Lola hired him, he’s decent. Trained. Disposable. She doesn’t waste time on loyalty—only results.
Doesn’t matterwhohe is.
If he doesn’t get his hands off her in the next ten seconds, I’ll paint the walls with his brain matter and send what’s left to the pig farm.
They won’t even find his teeth by the time I’m done with him.
I lift my gun—silent, efficient, steady in my grip.
“Now,” I say, my voice low and dangerous, “why don’t you let the girl go so we can have a real conversation. You can tell me what your boss wants with my information—before I tear it out of your fucking throat.”
Calvin shifts, pulling Brianna tighter, that tiny blade twitching closer to her artery.
He smirks like he thinks he has leverage. “I’m not an idiot, King. You won’t shoot an innocent girl.”
“Innocent?” I echo, arching a brow. “Have youmether? She hacked into my entire network. She’s not exactly a saint.”
Brianna scoffs under her breath.
“I don’t need you to save me,” she snaps. “I can handle this.”
My jaw tics.
Of course she’s stubborn. Bleeding and restrained, and she still wants to win. She always has to win.
Would itkillher not to be a tad bit grateful I’m here?
“Lucky for you, I could care less if you make it out of here alive.” The lie rolls off my tongue smoother than it should. My expression stays cool, unreadable. “I’m just here to protect all those secrets locked in that pretty little head of yours from leaking.”
She glares, twin daggers in her eyes—but it’s Calvin’s knife that draws another line down her skin, slicing just above her collarbone.
Shallow. Deliberate.
I seered.
There’s something primal snarling in my gut at the sight of her blood onhisblade.
If anyone’s going to make her bleed, it sure as hell won’t be some third-rate thug with cheap shoes and twitchy fingers.
If anyone gets to push her limits—tests her strength—it’ll be me.
But she doesn’t scream. Doesn’t even flinch.
