Page 295 of Ruin Me Gently

I gritted my teeth, forcing a breath through my nose. “He’ll tell the cops we did it.”

“No.” She shook her head, firm. “He won’t.”

“Oh yeah?”I snapped. “How do you know that?”

She didn’t answer me. Instead, she twisted in her seat, reached into the back, and grabbed Clark by the scruff of his shirt.

“Hey, asshole,” she said sweetly. “You gonna tell anyone this was us?”

Clark made a wet, pitiful noise. Not a word. Not even a full breath. Just a noise.

She sighed, slow and sharp, like she was forcing herself to stay calm. Then she leaned further back and dragged him up until his swollen face was inches from hers.

“You tell anyone this was us,” she murmured, “and I will end you. For real this time.”

He let out a pathetic wheeze, barely able to move his jaw.

She shook him slightly, enough to rattle his busted head. “Do you understand me?”

His head wobbled like a broken puppet. Another sick, garbled noise dribbled out of his mouth.

Her fingers tightened, knuckles white. “I said, do you understand me?!”

His eyes shot wide, terrified, bloodshot, and glassy. His split lip quivered, and finally— “Y-yeah.” It was barely a whisper, barely even a sound, but it was there.

Lilith stared at him for a second longer, her face blank—too blank—before she shoved him back against the seat.

“There we go,” she muttered, turning back around.

Thirty minutes later, the car skidded to a stop outside the hospital. The red neon ‘EMERGENCY’ sign hung overhead.

“I’m dumping him.”

Lilith’s head snapped toward me. “No, you’re not. We can’t just leave him here like roadkill.”

My grip on the wheel tightened, every muscle in my body coiled, barely held together by sheer will. Iwantedto leave him there like the garbage he was. But I adjusted my scarf back over the lower half of my face, pulled my hood to shield the upper, and stepped out of the car, rounding to grab Clark from the back.

“Stop,” she called as she opened her own door.

“No. Wait in the car, Lilith.”

I bent down and picked him up, cradling his broken body in my arms with a grimace. Without a second thought, I kicked the car door shut behind me and strode into the hospital.

The doors slid open with a sharp hiss, the fluorescent lights above buzzing like angry wasps. The antiseptic smell burned my nose through the fabric, too sharp, too clean. The waiting room was mostly empty—a receptionist scrolling through her computer, a nurse flipping through a clipboard, a guy slumped in a chair, cradling his bandaged hand.

Their heads snapped up the second they heard me.

Showtime.

I staggered forward, adjusting my grip, letting my eyes tighten with just enough urgency. “I—I found him outside,” I said, voice rough, like I was some concerned citizen who’d stumbled upon this poor bastard bleeding out in the rain.

The nurse gasped, already moving while the receptionist fumbled for the phone.

I knelt slightly, lowering Clark into a waiting chair where he slumped forward, drool and blood spilling onto his already destroyed shirt.

“Do you know what happened?” The nurse asked, wide-eyed, already pressing gloved hands to his neck, checking for vitals.

I shook my head. “No.”

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