Page 215 of Ruin My Life
He loosens his hold just enough for me to breathe—never enough to run. His fingers clamp around my elbow like shackles, steering me around the island.
My eyes catch on Lee’s motionless form. His torso rises—shallow, fragile, but alive.
Hang on,I beg silently.Please hang on. Damon’s coming.
We reach the front door. But Connor pauses.
Slowly, he turns back to the room. Raises the gun again.
A scream rips up my throat but dies against the deafening—BANG! BANG!
I flinch so hard my vision blacks out for a heartbeat. The sound echoes inside my skull, a nightmare bleeding through skin and bone—Amie’s lifeless eyes, her limp body, blood seeping into the carpet.
No.Not again.
I force my eyes open, bracing for the worst.
But Lee’s still breathing.
The shots weren’t for him.
Smoke curls from Connor’s barrel, and I realize both our laptops are destroyed—the screens spiderwebbed, processors obliterated. One bullet each.
He doesn’t want Damon to see what we found. Not yet.
Connor slips the gun into his waistband and drags me into the waiting elevator. The doors seal us inside with a hiss that sounds too much like the door of a tomb sliding shut.
My pulse hammers as the floor drops beneath my feet. Every nerve sparks alive, every muscle coiled tight around the only truth that matters now:
I’ve got just under five hours to come up with a plan.
Block Island is a long way from here, and I’ve made miracles happen with less time.
He want to see what The Black Rose can do?
Then buckle up,motherfucker.
You’re about too find out.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Damon
OURSUVSCREECHES TO A STOP IN FRONTof my apartment. We don’t waste time pulling into the garage—just leave it crooked at the curb.
I don’t give a damn if we’re blocking a hydrant or parked in a loading zone. I need to get upstairs.Now.
I tried checking the cameras on the drive over, but someone killed the feed. Took everything offline. That kind of darkness only happens if it’s deliberate. If I want to see what went down, I’ll have to access the local footage from my desktop.
Monroe, Chavez, and I storm through the lobby like it’s on fire—only difference is, we’re not running away from it. We’re charging straight into the flames.
Lee wouldn’t have triggered that alarm unless shit was seriously bad. He would’ve called. Texted.Something. But I’ve gotten nothing except that single alert for help.
Connor’s gone dark too.
And Brie—her phone goes straight to voicemail.
The elevator crawls to the penthouse. Each floor we pass seems to come slow and go even slower. It gives me more time to think. More time to spiral.
