Page 146 of Ruin My Life
No, thatcouldn’tbe it.
“That’s not true,” I say, too fast. “Your partner tried tokillme. He left me for dead. Why would he do that if he needed me alive?”
Alexander’s face twists—something between amusement and disdain. “If he wanted you dead, you’dbedead.”
My stomach turns.
“I wanted to finish the job. Put a gun to your head and force you to hack into Damon’s shit right there. But my partner? He’s a sick bastard. Into long games. Psychological warfare. He said letting you survive—giving youtime—would do more damage. Said it wouldmotivateyou.”
His grin is slow and cruel. “Looks like he was right.”
The air suddenly feels thin. My thoughts start spinning, puzzle pieces snapping together too fast, too loud.
They shot everyone else in the head.
Me? In the chest. Not instantly fatal.Survivable.
And maybe that was the point.
Maybe the ambulance came quicklyon purpose.
Maybe they made the call themselves. Just enough time to save me..
God.
Was this all by design?
Did someone—he—do this to me not because I was disposable… but because I wasuseful?
The trauma. The rage. The need for revenge. It didn’t break me. It honed me. Turned me into a tool sharp enough to slice through any firewall.
And when I was finally primed, they handed me Damon’s name on a silver platter.
It was never a just another job request.
It was the next step.
Everything I’ve done—every choice I thought was mine—was choreographed.
When they burned my life to the ground, I didn’t escape the fire. I wasforgedin it.
Into a weapon. Apawn.
My mouth opens, dry and trembling.
I want to say something. Demand a name. Demandwhy me.
But a loud bang from downstairs cuts through the spiral.
Both our heads snap toward the sound.
Footsteps—manyof them—slam against the metal stairs, climbing fast.
My blood turns to ice.
And then I see him. The first face that crests the landing.
Damon.
