Page 112 of Ruined

"After everything that happened..." she continues, her voice breaking. "I just need something familiar, you know? Something normal. I need to feel home again."

I understand, even if I don't agree. Home was never the sanctuary for me that it was for Jessica. She didn't face the same pressure, the same expectations. But right now she needs comfort, not my baggage.

"I'll go with you," I say, squeezing her hands. "We'll go together."

Relief floods her face. "Really? You will?"

"Of course. I'm not letting you out of my sight." I manage a small smile. "Besides, I have a few things I need to say to Dad."

Jessica's eyes widen slightly. She knows what that means—knows I've never stood up to Alexander Anderson before. Always the perfect daughter, the obedient prodigy.

"Are you sure?" she asks.

I nod, more certain than I've ever been about anything. "It's time."

Jessica hugs me again, this time with gratitude rather than desperation. "When can we leave?"

"Soon," I promise.

Noah approaches us, his movements still stiff from his injury. "Everything okay?"

"Jessica wants to go home. I'm taking her."

His jaw tightens. "To your parents' house? In Connecticut?"

"Yes."

"I'll drive you."

"No." The firmness in my voice surprises even me. "This is something I need to do alone, Noah."

He steps closer, lowering his voice. "After everything that happened with Ivan…"

"Ivan is dead," I remind him. "And I need to do this. For me."

We stare at each other, locked in silent battle. Finally he nods once.

"Take my car. But you call me when you get there, and you call me before you leave."

"I will."

Jessica looks between us, eyebrows raised. "Should I give you two a minute?"

"No," we say in unison.

I turn to her. "Pack your things. We'll leave in thirty minutes."

As Jessica heads inside Noah pulls me into his arms, his lips brushing my ear.

Noah's arms tighten around me, his breath warm against my ear. "I can't let you go alone, Evelyn. Not after everything that's happened."

I pull back, meeting his gaze. "I need space, Noah. I've spent my entire life being controlled—by my father, by Ivan, and now by you."

His jaw clenches. "This isn't about control. It's about keeping you safe."

"Is there a difference?" The words come out sharper than I meant them to.

Noah runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every movement. "Ivan may be dead, but his organization isn't. There are still people who could target you."

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