Page 209 of Ruin Me Gently

“Newsflash idiot. I already do.”

“The cops aren’t doing shit,” he said, voice tight. “He’s just out there. I couldn’t sit around and do nothing. I won’t let him get away with hurting you.”

“Do you think I want him to get away with it?” I seethed. “Because I don’t. I want him to pay for what he did. Believe me. But you don’t get to keep me in the dark about it.”

He took a step closer. “Lilith—”

I shook my head, stepping back further. “I’m not doing this right now. I need a minute to cool off.”

I spun toward the door, needing space, needing air, needing to get away before I lost my shit, before I said something stupid—

A hand caught mine. Warm fingers lacing through my own.

Not Silas.

I looked up.

Finn’s smirk was gone. No teasing. No bullshit.

“Lilith,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. Come on.”

He tugged my hand gently and pulled me towards the door.

“Graves, move your ass.” Finn shot him a look over his shoulder. “Now.”

Finn’s office was the exact same size as Silas’, but that was where the similarities ended.

Where Silas’ office was all warm wood, sleek organisation, and brooding rich-guy vibes, Finn’s was chaos.

It had all the makings of a high-powered CEO’s workspace—a massive glass desk, multiple monitors, and expensive leather furniture. But instead of organisation, it was… Well, it was exactly what I expected.

A basketball hoop was mounted on the far wall, surrounded by faint scuff marks that suggested he took the procrastination gameveryseriously.

His desk was a battlefield of half-stacked files, tangled charger cords, two different keyboards shoved off to the side, and a neatly lined up row of empty energy drink cans sat next to a very expensive looking bottle of whiskey.

A massive whiteboard behind him was filled with scribbled notes, equations, and meeting reminders, right next to a pinned-up spreadsheet of some complicated looking data that probably made sense to him and no one else.

“Welcome to my kingdom, Lils. Try not to be too impressed.” Finn flopped down behind his desk and kicked his feet up onto the edge like he was about to conduct a very important board meeting. “Take a seat, make yourself at home—just don’t touch anything that looks like it might explode.”

I paused mid-step. “… Define ‘might.’”

Finn’s grin stretched wider, eyes full of pure, undiluted chaos as he patted his lap. “If you’re worried, you can come take a seat right here if you like.”

Silas let out a low, unmistakable warning noise.

“Relax, Graves,” Finn snorted, dropping his feet off his desk. “You explaining, or am I?”

Silas rubbed his jaw. “Load it up. I’ll explain.”

Finn shot into motion and shoved aside half the contents of his desk before spinning toward his keyboard, typing something in. A beat later, he turned, grabbed a remote, and clicked a button.

Across the room, a screen lowered from the ceiling, smooth and silent, while a projector mounted above kicked on with a soft hum.

I stared at the rows of shifting numbers, flashing digits, long strings of data that meant absolutely nothing to me.

My ass met the leather of a chair, because clearly, I was going to need to be seated for whatever fresh hell this was. “… Right. No. What am I looking at?”

Finn grinned. “Numbers.”

---