Page 240 of Ruins
“I didn’t forget about you, Mia Dea,” he murmurs, his voice filled with the weight of the apology. He runs a hand through his hair, a small sigh escaping him. “I just... lost track of time.”
I stride toward him, his legs parting automatically to make space for me between them. The warmth of his body pulls me in, an unspoken promise that no matter what’s weighing on him, he’s still mine. My hands find his chest, fingers tracing the fabric of his shirt, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath my touch.
“Did you get the audio?” I ask softly.
“Not yet.” Santo’s voice is low, controlled—but the tightness in his jaw tells me he’s barely holding back frustration. His hands find my waist, grounding himself in me. “They intercepted more of our shipments.Again.”
I barely react to the words themselves—I know the war he’s fighting, the endless strategy. But I see the weight it’s putting on him, the pressure building behind his eyes.
“Do you have to go?” I whisper, hoping against hope. “Are you needed?”
“No, Dea. Nothing is more important than you.”
His voice is firm, leaving no room for doubt, but there’s a sadness in his eyes that makes me feel like he’s carrying the weight of the world for us both. “But...” He hesitates, running his hand gently along my cheek. “I’ve been reviewing the surveillance footage from Sarkisian’s visits with your father.”
I stiffen slightly at the mention of my father, guilt already creeping in. “Did you find anything worse than... than him being a traitor?”
Santo sighs, his hand still on my cheek, thumb brushing against my skin. “Unfortunately, yes.”
I blink, my mind scrambling to keep up. “What do you mean?”
He doesn’t answer immediately. His grip tightens on my waist, almost bracing me. “We caught Sarkisian leaving your father’s office an hour before you arrived with—” Santo stops, his expression flickering with something darker. He doesn’t want to say the name. But I already know.
“Jude.”
Santo nods once.
A strange coldness creeps up my spine. “Okay…?” My voice is hesitant, waiting for the part I don’t know. “What aren’t you saying?”
His jaw clenches, and then finally—he says it.
“Jude was also on the surveillance. In your father’s office. The same day.”
The room spins.
My pulse quickens. “No,” I say, shaking my head, stepping back. “That’s not possible. Jude never came to my home. Not once. He always... he would pick me up at the gate and drop me off there.”
Santo gives me a look, one filled with apology and pain, as if he doesn’t want to break my heart but has no choice. “I don’t have audio yet,” he says softly, “but once I do, we’ll know what was discussed.”
I can’t help but ask, my voice trembling, “And then... what? You’re going to kill my father?”
His answer is immediate. “I won’t,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “But Maksim...”
I nod, knowing what that means. “Maksim will.”
The reality hits me harder than I expected. The betrayal, the lies... they seem to be closing in on me from all sides. I know what has to happen. I take a breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “With Maksim, betrayal is punishable by death.” I feel the weight of those words settle between us.
Santo pulls me closer, his arms wrapping around me tightly as if he can protect me from all the darkness swirling around us. He lifts me onto his lap, and I let myself sink into him, my body trembling from the truth that’s unraveling around me. He kisses my forehead, his lips lingering as he breathes me in.
“No matter what happens, Dea,” he whispers against my skin, “you will be safe.”
I close my eyes, letting his words soothe me, even though I know the storm hasn’t passed. “I know,” I whisper back. “I’m safe with you.”
For a moment, we just hold each other, finding comfort in the silence. My thoughts begin to drift—away from my father, away from Jude—and for just a second, it’s only us. Santo’s voice pulls me back to reality.
“Oh,” he murmurs, “you got a letter from Mimi.” He reaches into his desk and hands me the envelope.
I perk up instantly, taking it eagerly, my fingers tracing the letters of my sister’s name. “About time,” I tease, though the ache of missing her is still there.
