Page 107 of Ruin My Life
“No,” Damon cuts in firmly. “First, we figure out who he is—what we’re up against. We can’t walk in without a plan.”
“Ihavea plan,” I snap. “I’m going to put a bullet between his eyes. Doesn’t matter who he is. Just what he’s done.”
Damon’s eyes harden. “This isn’t a game, Brie. Be smart about this—”
“Besmart?” I growl, stepping toward him and invading his personal space. “Maybeheshould’ve been smart. Maybe he should’ve thought twice before becomingmynumber one enemy.”
His hands come down on my shoulders—not harsh, but firm. Controlled, contained power. Just enough to anchor me.
His gaze locks onto mine, steady and dark, and for a moment, the rest of the room falls away.
“I meant thatyou aresmart,” he says, softer now. “And you know charging in without a plan gets people killed.”
“I don’t care—”
“You do,” he cuts in, gentle but unrelenting. “You care. That’s why you’re burning so hot right now.”
There’s a heaviness in his words. Not just a warning—an echo. Like he’s speaking from experience. Like he’s said this to himself before.
“I know you want revenge for what he did to your parents, but—”
“My sister.”
The word rips from my throat before I can stop it. Small. Brittle. But it hits the air like a bullet.
Damon stills. “What?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My throat clamps shut and my lungs twist into knots. My chest tightens like it’s trying to collapse in on itself.
I haven’t said her name aloud in months. Haven’t let her exist outside the locked chamber I built in the back of my mind. Not here. Not in front of anyone.
I don’t even know why I brought her up now.
Maybe it’s the photos. Maybe it’s the rage.
Or maybe it’s Damon’s eyes—seeing me like no one else has.
“He killed my parents,” I whisper, the words dry and hollow. “Him and someone else. But my little sister... he tookmorethan her life that night.”
There’s no need to explain. Damon hears the words I don’t say. He knows what that means.
His expression shifts. The edge leaves his jaw. His hands stay on my shoulders, tightening like nowhemight need grounding.
“You’ll get your revenge,” he says quietly. “But I need you to trust me. Just for a few days. Please.”
Trust him.
It sounds so simple when he says it.
But trust doesn’t live here anymore. Not in me.
And when I remember that flicker in his expression—when he looked at that photo and somethingregistered—the hairline cracks in my restraint start to widen.
He’s hiding something.
Maybe he’s lying.
Maybe it’s just a piece of the truth he’s not ready to share.
