Page 209 of Ruin My Life
She looks tense. Guarded. But not afraid.
Then something shifts.
She turns sharply—someone must’ve called her name. I can’t see who it is from this angle, but her whole expression changes. She smiles.
Then she walks toward them. Right into the blind spot.
I curse under my breath and swap camera feeds. The next angle picks up a figure walking beside her. A man. Broad-shouldered. Wearing a sweater with the hood pulled low over his face. The shadows make it impossible to make out any details, but Jennifer looks relaxed, still smiling as she talks to him.
Like shetrustshim.
That’s the part that makes me the most uncomfortable.
They cross the road toward Damon’s apartment building, the man expertly avoiding all the camera angles that mightgive away his identity. They round the corner toward the front entrance.
Then, without warning, his thick fingers latch around her wrist. He yanks her hard into the mouth of a narrow alley.
Jennifer's smile disappears. Her whole body recoils in panic.
She fights like hell.
Kicks at his knees. Swings her fists. Jabs her elbow into his gut. I watch her knee him in the groin once—twice—but he doesn’t stumble. Doesn’t even flinch.
He slams her back against the alley wall, using his weight to pin her. I still can’t see his face, only Jennifer’s.
And, mirrored in her wide, teary eyes, I see myself from six months ago.
His hood falls back.
Shaved head. Tanned skin. No scars. No tattoos. Nothing conclusive or recognizable.
Part of me questions if we’ve jumped to the wrong conclusion. Xander’s partner had long black hair when I saw him last. Tied back. Sleek. This man’s different—on the surface.
But the DNA says otherwise.
And people like him evolve to hide.
If I could just see hiseyes.
Jennifer claws at his arms. Her nails leave four bloody gouges across his forearm, all the way to his wrist—but he barely notices, even as blood beads along each line.
He’s calculated. Mechanical. Like he’s done this a hundred times before.
Then his hand curls around her throat.
And I feel his grip close on my own.
Suddenly, I’m not in the kitchen anymore.
I’m under him. Struggling. Gasping for air.
The memory of my own screams feels like static in my ears. My nails digging into carpet. My vision going black at the edges. His voice in my head.
Goodnight, sweetheart.
I force myself to swallow the memory. Lock it all back down.
Jennifer stops fighting. Her body slumps. Her lips part, one last breath rasping past bruised skin.
