Page 150 of Ruin Me Gently

I didn’t answer.

“Please. Say it.”

“I can’t.”

His hands curled into fists against the marble. “Tell me it’s not your fucking fault.”

I couldn’t. I couldn’t say it.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, nostrils flaring. “I swear to God, Silas.Tell me it’s not your fault.”

I swallowed, my throat raw, the ache in my chest unbearable, body trembling against my own thoughts. “It’s not my fault.”

He nodded, like that was enough. But it wasn’t. “Good. Again.”

I sucked in a shaky breath. “It’s not my fault.”

Louder this time. “Again.”

I gritted my teeth, closing my eyes. “It’s not my fault.”

“Good!Nowdo you fucking believe it?”

No.

But I forced the lie out anyway. “Yes.”

He let out a breath, dragging a hand through his already-messy hair. “Thankfuckfor that.”

I knew he didn’t believe me. Not really. But he let it go, and straightened, rolling his shoulders back like he was shifting gears, like he was ready to move on to a topic hecoulddo something about.

“Now,” he said. “Tell me more about thisClark.His choice or not, no way he’s getting away with this bullshit. So start talking. What do we know about this asshole?”

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

My body felt used,wrung out, like I’d been chewed up and spat onto the floor. And yet, for a moment, the comfort of it, this borrowed warmth, the plush weight of the blankets, almost made me forget.

Until it didn’t.

Something snapped into place sharp as lightning, and my eyes flew open. Soft light bled through thick curtains, casting a dim, golden glow across the impossibly tall walls. Bookshelves stretched the length of the room, crammed with novels worn at the spines, half-opened like someone had abandoned them mid-sentence.

And the plants. Jesus. They were everywhere. Ivy trailed across the shelves, weaving between hardcovers. A monstera stretched toward the ceiling, its massive leaves catching what little light crept in.

Where the hell was I? A library in the Amazon rainforest?

I pushed myself up, and a sharp, ringing pulse tore through my skull. I hissed, pressing my fingers to my temple, blinking hard against the haze.

Tender. Tight. Wrong.

My breath stalled.

I dragged my fingers over the spot again, slower this time. Stitches. Eight of them. Small. Precise. What the—

A distant voice cut through the static in my brain. ‘Your mind is protecting you in the only way it knows how.’

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I muttered to myself.

I needed to know where I was, what was happening. I needed to get up. I swung my legs off the bed and pushed myself upright.

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