Page 151 of Ruin My Life
Made survival into something sharp and lonely.
I remember what Dahlia told me once—her voice like static in the back of my brain.
She won’t come to you for help when she needs it, but it’s likely she will need it all the same.
When I look at the girl in my arms, she doesn’t look likeThe Black Rose.
She’s not the girl who stalked and dismantled the Songbirds one by one.
Not the girl who hacked into my network like it was a game, or fought a man twice her size andwon.
Not the girl who sat bound in the back room, hazel eyes lit with defiance—daring me to try and break her.
But she’s not Brie, either.
Not the one who curled into my chest last night.
Not the one who whispered my name like a secret she never meant to share.
She’s gone quiet. Hollowed out.
There's no fight left in her. No life. No fire.
Just... silence.
She’s so still, it scares me.
And yet—she’s familiar.
Not like someone I’ve known.
Like someone I’vebeen.
Like staring into a mirror.
MONROE PARKS THESUV in the garage below my apartment, where Lee’s already waiting for us.
He doesn’t ask questions—he doesn’t need to. Chavez must’ve filled him in on the way. The tension in his posture tells me he already knows enough.
“I scrubbed the footage from Xander’s door cam,” Lee says quickly, his eyes flicking to Brie as I ease her down onto her feet. “But there’s no way to know if someone saw it first. If they did...”
I already know what he’s going to say.
If they did, we’re already fucked.
Whether Xander really walked away from the Songbirds or was cut loose by Matthias, one thing’s certain—his father wouldn’t leave him unprotected. Not without a backup plan. Not without eyes on him.
I’d bet real money there was someone watching those feeds. Maybe even stationed nearby for reckon.
War’s coming. There’s no question.
“Any rumblings yet?” Chavez asks as we unload from the SUV.
“Nothing so far,” Lee says. His gaze cuts to Brie again—still visibly wary of her. “I doubled security in the building. I think we should close The Speakeasy until the dust settles.”
“These areSongbirds,” Connor grunts. “The dust isn’t going to settle. Not unless it clings to spilled blood.”
“Connor.” My warning comes out low and sharp.
