Page 87 of Ruin My Life
The dam cracks. Tears sting at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back.
It’s been a long time since anyone’s looked past the thorns and seenme. The girl beneath the mask. The one with the chest full of scars and fists full of grief.
And I know—without question—that Dahlia won’t say a word. She won’t tell Chavez. She won’t tell Damon.
She won’t give them any reason to believe I’m not strong.
Which makes her the first person I’ve felt like I could trust since my entire life fell apart.
And that terrifies me more than anything else.
Chapter Eighteen
Damon
MEETING WITHMONROE SHOULDN’T MAKEmy skin itch like this.
But it does.
Because I know exactly what this is about.
I saw it in his eyes back in the apartment—the simmering disappointment, the anger he didn’t voice in front of Brie. He doesn’t like the fact that I brought her back, and he especially doesn’t likewhyI did it.
And he’s not wrong.
I don’t have to listen to him. But what I told Brie is true—my inner circle isn’t made up of employees. They’re my family. Monroe, Connor, Lee, Chavez... they’re the reason I never looked back after I pulled myself out of the Songbirds. I trust them to tell me when I’m about to screw everything up. And I respect them enough to listen.
Usually.
But then there’s Brie.
I wasn’t thinking when I left the bar.
Wasn’t thinking when I hacked the hotel cameras or reprogrammed my keycard to access the room of the asshole who grabbed her.
And when I watched her take that guy down with blood on her skin and fire in her eyes, I definitely wasn’t thinking about anything except how fucking beautiful she looked doing it.
But she’s not here because of temptation. Not anymore.
She’s here because someone came after her to get to me. Which means we’rebothin danger now.
When I reach the security office in the back of The Speakeasy, Monroe, Connor, and Lee are already inside. The tension in the room is thick enough to choke on.
“Have you found—”
I barely make it to my desk before Monroe growls, “Damon, if you keep thinking with the wrong head, you’re going to send all of us into early graves.”
I grit my teeth. “I should’ve just kept her here. I know that.”
That earns me a long pause.
“But we’re in the business ofprotectingpeople, not trapping them. I made the call to let her go when she said no. When it backfired, I made the call to bring her back.”
“She should be in a safehouse,” Monroe snaps. “Not in your fucking apartment,estúpido.”
“You’ve met her,” I say dryly. “Do you really think telling her to sit still and play nice in a bolted-down safehouse would work? At least in the penthouse, I know she’s not slipping away or getting dragged off by some ghost with a grudge.”
His jaw tightens. My words hang there between us. It’s the truth, and he knows it.
