Page 147 of Ruin My Life
Gun raised. Jaw set. Eyes burning.
He looks like the definition of hell and fury carved into flesh.
His gaze drops to the blood on the floor, follows the grim path—from Alexander’s shattered leg to the stained wall and the twisted belt—until it locks onto me.
His stare scours every inch of me for damage. For answers.
He doesn’t say a word. But I see it all in his face.
Betrayal. Relief. Rage. Fear.
And underneath it—buried so deep I almost miss it—is something like heartbreak.
“Ah, the whole gang’s here,” Alexander chuckles darkly as Connor, Monroe, and Chavez crowd into the loft behind Damon—each one with a gun drawn.
“Shut it, Xander,” Monroe growls, stepping forward to plant himself between Alexander and the others, like he’s shielding them from view.
Damon doesn’t rush at me. He walks toward me slowly, like I’m an animal backed into a corner—wild and dangerous and unpredictable.
“Brie,” he says carefully. “Listen to me—”
“STOP!”
My voice cracks through the room like a gunshot.
My hands are trembling, but I still raise my weapon, turning it on Damon.
Chavez reacts instantly, leveling his gun right at my head.
“You will not take this from me,” I hiss, blinking against the tears now spilling down my cheeks.
Damon lowers his weapon slowly, hand raised.
His eyes never leave mine.
“I won’t,” he says gently. “But you know who he is. You know why I couldn’t tell you. If you kill him here, you become a target. Every Songbird in this city will come for you.”
My aim shifts back to Alexander, and when I look at him, my whole body shakes.
“Iwasa target,” I whisper. “All along. They killed my family. He—herapedmy sister while I watched. They did it all to use me. To turn me into this—thismonster.”
I tip my chin over my shoulder toward Damon.
“Just so I could give them information onyou.”
It’s like my words hit Damon square in the chest. He staggers. But he keeps walking toward me, step by step through the blood and horror.
“Brie... hewillpay. We’ll find the partner—the bastard pulling the strings. They’ll both suffer. And when they die, it’ll be because we took everything from them first.”
His voice is low. Furious.Vicious.
“But it can’t be here. Not like this. Please—trust me.”
I bark a bitter, broken laugh.
“Trust you?” I echo. “If it were up to you, I’d be locked in that penthouse like some kind of glass doll. Safe. Protected.Owned.”
His jaw clenches.
