Page 86 of Run of Ruin

The crowd erupted, but all I could think of was Jax’s face on that screen, and the knowledge that Praxis was watching us all.

The studio practically shook from the cheers.

My heart pounded as I turned my head toward the side of the stage. And then, there they were.

Ezra, Briar, and Thorne strode into the light, each of them stunning in their own right. Ezra wore his dark button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, his forearms dusted with fresh bruises and scratches, but he carried them like medals. Briar had gone sharp and sleek, her tailored jacket hanging open over a tight black corset top, silver chains catching the light at her throat. Thorne, of course, looked like sin and defiance wrapped in leather, his jacket slung over his broad shoulders, his dark shirt clinging to lean muscle.

They looked untouchable. Like they hadn’t almost drowned hours ago. Like they hadn’t been one wrong move away from death.

They crossed the stage toward me, and for the first time all evening, the ice in my chest cracked a little.

Thorne moved ahead of the others, claiming the seat beside me with an easy grin. He shot the others a wink, playful, cocky, before draping an arm over my shoulders and pulling me in. The familiar warmth of his presence, the casual protectiveness of the gesture, grounded me.

“Is it hot in here, or is it just them?” Annalese teased, fanning herself dramatically and earning another wave ofwhoops and hollers from the audience. The room felt like it vibrated with the sound, the pulse of the crowd thrumming against my skin. “You four have been the talk of the trials,” she continued, her grin wide and knowing. “I mean… have you ever seen this much chemistry outside of the science based trials?” She winked, and the audience roared with laughter.

Then she turned those sharp, glittering eyes on me. “Tell me, Brexlyn,” she said, leaning in just enough to make it feel conspiratorial. “What’s the story with you four?”

I glanced at my Wildguard. Ezra with his steady, unreadable gaze, his mysterious mask firmly in place. Briar offered me the faintest, reassuring smile, and Thorne, ever cocky, gave me a wink and a shoulder nudge. For half a second, my eyes flicked beyond the cameras to where Zaffir stood, arms crossed, watching me. His jaw was tight, and when our gazes locked, he gave the smallest smile. One meant for only me.

“They’re my team,” I said, my voice soft but steady. “They’ve risked their lives for me. And I’d do the same for them.”

“Awww,” Annalese cooed, as the audience sighed and clapped at my answer. “But, please, for the love of Nexum, put us out of our misery and tell us, is there a little romance budding here?” She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, grinning like a predator who knew she’d just cornered her prey.

I took a long, steadying breath. My stomach knotted, my pulse a relentless drum beat beneath my skin. The images they’d no doubt already seen flashed through my mind, Ezra’s kiss, Briar’s desperate lips on mine in the canals, the near-scandalous moment with Thorne pressed against me in the dark in the Wilds. No amount of clever editing could erase the way we looked at each other when we thought no one was watching.

“Do you want there to be?” I shot back with a crookedsmile, trying for cheeky even as my heart stuttered against my ribs. The crowd loved it, shrieking and whistling.

Annalese let out a delighted laugh, clapping her hands. “Let’s run the clips!”

The lights dimmed, and all eyes turned to the massive screen behind her. A soft, swelling instrumental played as a montage unfolded, and my heart lodged somewhere high in my throat.

It started simple. Ezra holding my hand in his as we exited the train. Thorne as he spun me around at the Welcome Ball, his eyes never leaving mine. Briar kneeling beside me in the Wilds, her hands gentle as she cleaned the wound on my cheek. Then came the things I hadn’t noticed, stolen glances I never felt, lingering touches I hadn’t realized lingered too long. The way they studied me when I wasn’t looking. They way they watched me like their world revolved around my movements.

Ezra watching me as the sun rose over Praxis, his face softening in a way he never let the world see. Thorne sitting beside me while I slept on the forest floor, his eyes only on me. Briar trailing behind me in the forests, a half-smile playing at her lips as I navigated us back to Praxis.

Then there was me.

The way my face crumpled when Ezra was bitten by that wolf. The reverence as I tended to the wound. The panicked way I scrambled to Briar when she nearly fell in the produce trial. The bright, unguarded laughter I gave to every ridiculous thing Thorne said. The way I stared at Briar as she hummed. I thought I’d been careful. I thought I’d hidden it well. But up there, laid bare for everyone to see, it was painted clear as sunrise.

Then came the kisses. Ezra pulling me in with a look that claimed me as his, and me falling into it like I’d been waitingmy whole life. The crowd erupted. Then Briar, drenched and desperate, finding me in the canals. That kiss was frantic, the kind you give when you think it might be your last.

The montage ended with a shot of the four of us crammed into the back seat of the limo, Ezra’s head tipped against mine, Thorne’s arm slung over my shoulders, and Briar’s hand resting over mine in my lap. It was quiet and intimate in a way I hadn’t realized the cameras had caught. The music faded out, leaving only the sound of the crowd’s sighs and scattered cheers.

And it was only then, in the echo of the music and the spotlight of a thousand watching eyes, that I realized I was crying. Silent, hot tears slipping down my cheeks. Not from embarrassment. Not from fear. But from the terrifying, aching certainty that I loved them. All of them. In ways I didn’t know how to carry in a world like this.

I blinked hard, the sting of tears blurring the screen for a beat before I lifted my gaze and found Zaffir. Behind the cameras and the blinding lights, his eyes were already on me. His usual sharp, unyielding expression had cracked, just for a heartbeat. I saw it in the way his brow softened, in the flicker of something tender and aching in his gaze.

He’d made that montage. I knew it in my bones. No one else could have strung those moments together with that kind of care, with that kind of quiet, aching intimacy. It was too deliberate, too personal, too much like someone who knew the weight of every stolen glance and every touch that lingered.

I smiled at him. A thank you written on the curve of my lips. And something more. A message I hoped he’d catch that said ‘the only thing missing was you’.

“I’ve never seen a better love story,” Annalese squealed, practically bouncing in her seat. The audience hooted andhollered in agreement, their energy crackling through the studio like a live wire.

“Wildguard,” she grinned, turning her attention to them, “talk to me. How did this even happen? How do four hearts even find love in the middle of the trials?”

Thorne was the first to speak, his voice easy and unguarded in that way only he could manage. “I think it’s no mystery to anyone watching how damn special she is,” he said, gesturing toward me with a soft, crooked smile. “Anyone who’s got eyes would fall for her. We just had the privilege of being close enough to convince her to fall back.” He was playing it up for the crowd, but I recognized some truth behind the performance.

The crowd let out another chorus ofawwsand cheers.

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