Page 307 of Ruin Me Gently

But luck does not last forever. Fate, it seems, has caught up to you. You were found, you were identified, and now, you will be held accountable.

This court takes crimes of domestic and intimate partner violence with the utmost seriousness. Your actions were deliberate. Your brutality was measured. And your victim will carry the scars—physical and otherwise—long after today.

After reviewing the evidence, hearing witness testimony, and considering the impact of your actions, this court sentences you to twenty-five years in prison, with no possibility of parole for fifteen years.

You will be remanded immediately to the custody of the state, where you will serve your sentence in full.

Let this be clear. This is not just a punishment for what you have done, but a message to those who believe they can act with impunity. Violence against those who cannot fight back will not be tolerated. Running will not save you. And when justice catches up to men like you, it will be swift, and it will be certain.

Court is adjourned.”

I clicked off my phone, the screen going dark. I’d watched the news clip from Clark’s sentencing so many times over the last three days, I practically had the whole thing memorised.

I didn’t need to hear the words anymore. I knew how it ended. But I kept watching anyway. Watching him sit there in that suit. Watching his face fall when the judge read his sentence—when reality finally hit. I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop replaying that moment, couldn’t stop revelling in the satisfaction of his comeuppance.

It had been six months since that night.

Six months since we beat Clark to a pulp.

Six months since we left him at the hospital, bloodied, and barely breathing.

Sometimes, it felt like it had happened yesterday, like I could still feel the wrench in my hands, the storm lashing against my skin, my heart slamming against my ribs as the yacht sank beneath us.

Other times, it felt like something I’d entirely imagined. Like a whole other life.

I’d increased my sessions with Dr. Hayes. I never told thefulltruth of what had happened—I wasn’t about to get myself locked up—but I was getting… better.

There were still nights where I woke up gasping, clawing at the sheets, my pulse too fast, tooloudin my ears.

But every single time, Silas was there.

Holding me. Grounding me. Reminding me that I was safe.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

I looked down at him. His head was in my lap, his warm brown eyes half-lidded from sleep. His lips were slightly parted, jaw shadowed from his longer than usual stubble that he’d been purposefully growing, because I’d offhandedly mentioned a few weeks ago that I liked the way it scratched against my skin.

My big, stupid, beautiful man.

I hummed, shifting closer, trailing a hand along his cheek. “Mhm. I am now I’m looking at you.”

“Lilith.”

“What?” I sighed.

“Be serious.”

I groaned. “Fine. I feel… weird.”

He yawned. “Weird how?”

I shrugged, pressing my lips together as I tried to wrestle my thoughts into words. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “It’s just… it’s over, you know? It’s just… us.”

He stiffened slightly. “Is that a bad thing?”

My chest ached. “No. You know what I mean.”

His gaze searched mine, brow slightly furrowed.

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