Page 110 of Ruined

I wait for Evelyn's disgust, her judgment. I've just laid myself bare—told her I'm a killer, that I've spent my life becoming the monster my father created. But instead of pulling away, she moves closer.

"I never imagined being part of a mafia world," she says quietly, her fingers still intertwined with mine. "Not once in my life did I think I'd end up here."

I brace myself for what comes next. The fear, the rejection.

"But you're a better human than anyone else I've met."

The words hit me like another bullet. I stare at her, searching for the lie, the manipulation. There isn't any.

"Better?" I let out a harsh laugh. "I kidnapped you. I killed people in front of you. I?—"

"You saved me," she interrupts. "From Ivan. From myself, maybe."

She shifts closer, wincing slightly as she notices my pain.

"My father controlled me through fear. Ivan tried to own me through contracts and threats." Her eyes meet mine, unwavering. "You're the first person who saw me as something more than what I could do for them."

"That's not true," I argue, needing her to understand what I am. "I watched you for months. I wanted you. I took you."

"Yes." She nods. "But you also listened to me play. You gave me choices when you could have forced me. You risked your life to save my sister—someone you've never even met."

Her hand reaches up to stroke my face and I fight the urge to lean into it like some desperate, touch-starved animal.

"I'm not saying you're a saint, Noah. I know what you are. What you do." Her thumb traces my jawline. "But in this world of monsters, you're the only one who's shown me any real humanity."

I close my eyes, unable to look at the forgiveness I don't deserve.

"Don't," I whisper. "Don't make me something I'm not."

"I'm not," she says firmly. "I'm seeing you exactly as you are."

I can't fucking handle this. The way she looks at me, like I'm something worth saving. Like I'm not the monster I know I am. Her forgiveness is worse than any torture.

My chest constricts—from the bullet wound or something deeper, I don't know. But I need to shut this down. This... vulnerability. It's dangerous. Fatal in my world.

I reach down, gripping her chin between my fingers, tilting her face up to mine.

"Take off your clothes," I command, my voice rough. "Go back to the bedroom. Lie on the bed with your legs spread open for me."

Her eyes widen slightly but I see something else there too. Understanding. She knows what I'm doing—trying to push awaythis moment of connection, retreating to the physical where I feel safe.

For a moment I think she'll refuse. Tell me to fuck off. But then she stands, her eyes never leaving mine.

"Running away, Noah?" she asks softly, and the question hits harder than any bullet.

I don't answer. Can't answer.

She walks toward the bedroom, pulling her shirt over her head as she goes. I follow, watching as she sheds each piece of clothing, revealing the body I've memorized. The body that somehow matters more to me than any other ever has.

When she lies back on the bed, legs parted just as I commanded, I feel a surge of power. This is what I know. This is where I'm in control.

But as I look at her I realize it's not working. The emotions don't fade. They intensify, twisting inside me until I can barely breathe.

"Is this what you want?" she asks, her voice steady despite her vulnerable position. "Or is this just easier than talking?"

I exhale slowly, my chest aching from more than just the bullet wound.

"Fuck," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. "You're right."

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