Page 214 of Ruin My Life
“Here’s what’s gonna happen now,” he growls. “I know Damon took you to Block Island on your little honeymoon.And I’m betting he showed you to his extra-special hideout, yeah?”
I grit my teeth, staying silent. But his arm tightens, cutting off what little oxygen I’ve managed to get. My toes drag uselessly across the floor as he lifts me higher, his forearm crushing my throat like steel against brittle bone.
I try to push off of him with my hands, my elbows, my feet. But my back stays pinned to the wall of his chest, solid and cold as marble.
And I hate it. I hate that I’m not strong enough. That I’ve never been strong enough—not againsthim.
“Why are you doing this?” I manage to choke out, my voice rasping around the pressure on my throat. “Isabella was killed by O’Doyle.”
His grip tightens like a noose. My vision fades again like TV static.
“Damon put her in danger the second he brought her into this world,” Connor snarls. “She’d still be breathing if he kept his distance. He took everything from me. And now I’m going to show him what it really feels like to mourn.”
There it is.
His broken heart, spilled at my feet like it’s meant to justifyanyof this.
Once, maybe, I’d have seen a reflection of myself in him. We both lost everything. We both bled out in the same graveyard of people we couldn’t protect. But somewhere along the line, he stopped clawing at the dark and startedbecomingit.
He rebuilt his grief over Isabella in my image—cruel, calculated, jagged enough to cut open Damon’s chest and watch him choke on the ruin.
He shaped me into his revenge. Handed me to Damon like a ticking bomb.
And I played my part perfectly—until now.
A mastermind’s plan, sure. But he miscalculated one thing.
I don’t give a fuck about his grief. Not anymore.
Because I’velivedthrough the pain because of him. Idiedand clawed my way back. And I wouldn’t wish what I’ve been through on anyone.
Except him.
So Connor can go ahead.
Pressharder.
Because the second my feet hit the ground, I’m driving the final nails into his coffin myself.
Connor regains his easy composure, that wicked grin sliding back across his lips like a blade sheathed in arrogance.
“You, my feisty little hacker,” he drawls, “are going to introduce me to mommy dearest. And you’re going to come with me willingly. Unless, of course, you want me to finish what I started and kill poor, innocent Lee?”
My pulse stutters. Ice floods my veins.
I can’t take him to Rebecka.
He’ll kill her. And that alone would destroy Damon. Which is exactly what Connor wants.
But if I refuse... Lee’s as good as dead. He’s already losing blood—slipping further from consciousness with every second.
Maybe… maybe he has a chance. I survived a bullet. Maybe he can too. If I can buy him even a few more minutes—just enough for Damon to get back.
Connor cocks the gun and aims it at Lee’s slumped figure.
“Stop! Stop,” I gasp, my voice rough from the pressure of his arm against my windpipe. “I’ll take you to her. Just don’t hurt him.”
“Good girl,” Connor purrs.
