Page 54 of Run of Ruin

Her sneer, the kind that saidI know what you did, was too late.

When we crossed the line, I felt the collective exhale of everything that had led up to this point. I scanned the crowd, the sea of faces cheering and clapping, but my eyes found Zaffir first.

There, at the edge of the crowd, he stood, his camera focused on us, his eyes shining with relief. He gave me a smile, and I returned it, unable to stop myself. His nod to me was reverent, thankful, proud.

The crowd erupted, their cheers deafening. And though I knew their applause was for surviving the horrors that they themselves put us through, I allowed myself to let it wash over me. I soaked in the sound, the praise, because we had earned it. It hadn’t been easy. But we made it. And that was something worth celebrating.

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

Thorne

A shower had never feltas good as it did now. The warmth of the water poured over my head and shoulders, sluicing away the layers of dirt, blood, and grime that had clung to me like a second skin after nearly a week in the forest. I braced a hand against the tile wall, watching the water swirl dark at my feet before it disappeared down the drain carrying with it every ache, every cut, every moment of fear and adrenaline that had led me here.

For the first time in days, I felt like myself again.

Briar ended up finishing eighth and I got tenth. We probably could’ve pushed for a better spot if we’d actually hustled at any point before the last few miles. If we’d strategized harder, treated it like the desperate race it was meant to be. But honestly? I didn’t regret a damn thing about the slow and steady approach we took. Because every night around the campfire, every lazy morning conversation, and unplannedstop in the woods gave us more time to get to know her. Brexlyn Hollis.

God, even just thinking her name now sent a pulse of something electric through me. Shivers down my spine and thoughts that had no business creeping into my mind. The way she felt pressed against me in the shadows of those trees, her breath catching, her gaze locking on mine like gravity itself had tethered us together in that moment. The way her lips parted like she was just about to…

I would have. I was going to. I could still feel the ghost of that almost-kiss. The fire of it. But then her fucking bodyguard had to show up.

Ezra. Tall, brooding, possessive. I’d half a mind to knock him clean out when he appeared, all protective glower and sharp words. But what gutted me, what made the anger coil into something uglier, was the way Bex had sunk into his arms like it was instinct. Like he was her safety and comfort wrapped in flesh and muscle.

I’d heard her a few nights when she thought we were both asleep. Those quiet, broken sobs she buried in the forest floor. And I knew she was crying for him. I wanted to reach for her, tell her it was okay. That she wasn’t alone. That she had me. That she had Briar, too. That there was a whole damn world outside the orbit of Ezra that was ready to hold her up. But I didn’t. Because she still needed him.

But it didn’t stop me from hoping. Hoping that the longer she was around us, the more she learned the secrets to my sharp edges and smart mouth, my stubborn heart and fractured past, the more she saw me, maybe one day she’d need me too.

Not instead of him. Not in competition.

But maybe in addition.

I let my mind wander to the memory of her soft skin, the hitch in her breath as I pressed my hardening cock against her. She welcomed my touch, she was desperate for it. I let my hand drift lower and wrap around myself, hard and thick at the simple thought of her. The warm water fell over my skin, and the slick slide of soap against my palm made each touch smooth, effortless, and sinfully indulgent. I let my head fall forward against the tile, eyes slipping shut as the memory of Brexlyn Hollis spurred me forward.

Those eyes. The kind of blue that made the sky look washed out and forgettable. The way they sparkled when she was amused, the sharp, defiant glint they held when she challenged me, and the soft, vulnerable flicker she tried so hard to hide when she thought no one was looking. Her long champagne colored hair that framed her face. And her lips… thick, lush, like they were made to be kissed, bitten, ruined.

But it wasn’t just her face, or the sway of her hips, or the curve of her waist that drove me out of my mind. It was her mind. That brilliant, relentless, sharp-as-fuck mind of hers. Nothing got me going like watching those gears turn, like seeing the way she absorbed everything I told her about the forest, every plant, every track, every creature. She wasn’t just listening to me ramble. She learned. She remembered.And the more she did, the more I wanted to give her things to remember.

I wanted to lean in, whisper devilish, filthy things in her ear, and watch the way her breath hitched. Wanted to put my hands on her in ways no one ever had and feel her arch into me. Wanted to leave marks, memories on her skin and in her head, so no matter how far she went no matter whose arms she collapsed into, my touch and my words, would be the ones haunting her.

The fantasy of her, hair damp with sweat, lips parted,breath ragged as she moaned my name, flashed through my mind, and a groan tore from my throat. I worked myself harder, faster, chasing the thought of making her mine, even if only in fantasy.

And when the pleasure crested sharp and hot behind my eyes, it was her name that spilled from my lips in a low, desperate growl.

I killed the water and stepped out, grabbing a towel and slinging it low around my hips. The air outside the bathroom was cooler, and goosebumps rose along my skin as I moved down the hallway. I could hear Briar’s voice carrying from the main room, something lighthearted directed at Char, our ever-present camera guy. Briar was probably cracking some joke or recounting one of the million near-death experiences we’d somehow spun into an adventure this week in a ruse to get Char to lower his guard and tell us something about the Architects or the next Trial. When people feel comfortable, they let their guard down. Simple as that. And Briar was great at making people comfortable.

I didn’t bother joining in on the conversation. It wasn’t my scene, never had been. I kept my head down and made for my room, slipping inside and locking the door behind me with a soft click. The quiet was instant. I exhaled, leaning my back against the door for a second before pushing off and crossing the room.

Briar had always been the people person, the one who could smooth-talk a soldier out of his weapon or sweeten a tense situation with nothing but a smile and a clever story. She had this easy way about her, like every conversation was a game she already knew how to win. And people ate it up. Hell, half the time so did I. But that wasn’t me, I never had the energy for that social shit.

People were exhausting. The fake smiles, the unspokenrules, the way you had to tiptoe around words and egos like navigating a minefield. Conversations always came loaded with invisible strings and ulterior motives you had to unravel before you could get anywhere real. I wasn’t built for that kind of dance. I didn’t care for the performance, the half-truths, the carefully curated versions of ourselves we presented like masks at a masquerade.

Give me something solid. Concrete. Something that made sense. Math, science, those were my languages. In those worlds, you didn’talmostfind the answer. You either did, or you didn’t. It was clean, unburdened by emotion or messy histories. No guessing what someone really meant, no gut instinct trying to decipher tone or meaning. Just numbers. Just facts. Just proof.

But with people? Too many variables. Too many factors you couldn’t control or predict. Feelings. Trauma. Lies. The impossible-to-track chain reactions of words spoken decades ago, still rippling through their bloodstream. No matter how well you thought you knew them, you never really know anyone. Not entirely.

And that… that’s what made someone like Brexlyn Hollis so goddamn dangerous. Because even with all her painful memories, I wanted to know her. To figure her out. To run the equation of her and solve for X. And something told me that girl was going to ruin me long before I ever got the chance.

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