Page 213 of Ruin My Life
Sister?
And then the last puzzle piece finally clicks.
“Isabella,”I breathe.
His grin returns, lips pulling into a rotten smile despite his near-perfect teeth. “Ding ding ding!” he says mockingly. “We have a winner.”
Revenge.
It was never about me, or my family. Not at first.
It was always about Damon.
Connor is twice my size and my gun is in Damon’s bedroom. I didn’t think I’d need it in his very own fucking apartment.
Glass crunches beneath his boot as he steps forward, drawing his gun from his belt and pointing it between us, the barrel glinting beneath the kitchen lights. Lee and I both instinctively back away, our hands up slightly, eyes never leaving him.
We’re prey. And we both know it.
One wrong move and he’ll pull the trigger without blinking.
But something shifts in my chest. Something old and poisonous and feral.
I’ve spent too long letting him control me—letting him live rent-free in my head like he earned the space. I let the painhe carved into me blind me, cage me, convince me I was powerless. All so he could benefit. All so he could win.
Maybe he still needs me alive. Maybe he doesn’t. But it doesn’t matter now. Because what he doesn’t realize is—he’s already dug his grave.
And I plan to bury him in it with my own goddamn hands.
I shove Lee back, slamming my forearm across his chest, and lunge for Connor’s gun. My hand wraps around his wrist, forcing his aim down until the muzzle points at the floor.
“Lee, call Damon!” I shout, gritting my teeth as Connor fights me, his strength overwhelming mine in seconds.
He just laughs. “You think one training session with Monroe makes you a threat?”
With a sharp twist, he rips his arm free and clamps it around my throat, dragging me back against his chest. The cold press of the barrel shifts—aimed straight at Lee.
No.Lee!
I try to scream, but his forearm constricts around my throat like a snake. My feet scramble for traction as he lifts me just enough to choke the air from my lungs. My vision pulses black at the edges.
BANG!
The gunshot cracks like lightning across a dark, stormy sky. My whole body seizes.
Lee crumples. His phone skitters across the kitchen floor, and blood seeps through the back of his shirt, just above his tailbone.
No. No, no, no!
Pleasedon’t be dead.
But then—he twitches. Pulls in a sharp, broken breath. His fingers dig at the floor.
Alive.Barely.
Relief floods my chest for a split second—until Connor’s gun drifts back toward Lee’s trembling body.
His breath ghosts against my ear.
