Page 19 of Ruin Me
Accepting their offer for protection feels like jumping off a cliff blindfolded. But refusing? That leaves me exposed, vulnerable to any rival looking to score points against The Crowned Syndicate, against my father.
“Listen,” Quentin says, sitting next to me. “We can’t promise a rose garden. But we’ll stand by you through every thorn and weed.”
“Protection has a price,” I mutter under my breath. But can I afford not to pay it? Or will I end up like poor Jones? Beaten and bloodied because I couldn’t pay.
“Everything has a price,” Callum says as if he’s read my thoughts. “Question is, what are you willing to pay for peace of mind?”
“I don’t have any money. You should know this, seeing as you know so much about me.”
“What’s money got to do with anything?” Harrison asks with a frown. He sits on the coffee table in front of me and gives me that stare that seems to touch my soul.
“I can’t pay you to protect me, and I don’t want to end up like Jones!” I blurt out, standing up andrealising my pussy is directly in line with Harrison’s face, so I sit again, blushing furiously.
“Jones?” Callum exclaims. “Jones?”
“The guy you beat up outside my flat! You’ve forgotten him already?”
“Oh, him,” Callum snorts. “Jones is a cock, and there’s nothing poor about him. He pays for our protection because Dunsany is after him. We are the only ones Dunsany are scared enough of to keep their distance. That goes deeper than him not paying and us beating him up.”
“Well, not really,” Thayer mutters, to which Callum shoots him a vicious glare.
“Still! I have no money to pay you to protect me, so you can stop with the hard sell or the soft one. We’re done here. I’m on my own.”
“No one is asking you to pay us,” Callum huffs out. “Your father and mine go way back. Like all the way back. Had your father not been head of the Syndicate, we probably would’ve grown up together. I know him as well as I know my own dad, and let me tell you, he is not the asshole you think he is. Well, okay, heisan asshole, but there are things... Fuck!” He spins suddenly and slams his fist onto the dining table, making me jump a mile and clutch my hands to my chest. He visibly calms himself and turns back to me with a tight smile. “Vogue. What I told you today was not how this was supposed to go down. I made a choice to enlighten you and will pay for that. This is your legacy, you are one of us. We don’t expect norneed you to pay us to protect you. We will do that anyway because that is what we do.”
Staring into his eyes, so deep I could drown, I sigh. This goes so much deeper than I think, but that’s the problem, Ican’tthink right now. All I know is accepting their offer is a pact with devils I know versus those I don’t.
“Okay,” I say, not committing, just acknowledging. It’s all I can manage when my head is swimming in a sea of maybes and what-ifs.
“Okay?” Thayer asks with a frown.
“Look, I can’t do this right now. I need air, space to think.” The room shrinks with every breath I take; each second ticking by is a vice tightening around my chest. “I need time. This is too much, too fast. Please, just take me back to my flat.” It’s the only place that feels mine, the only ground I can be sure of.
Callum’s jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek; he doesn’t like this, not one bit. But he nods, terse and curt. Thayer stands frozen, an unreadable look passing over his features. Harrison’s eyes are hard to look away from. It’s like they’re hypnotising me, but I force my gaze away to Quentin, silent, just watching me, his expression indistinct.
“Let’s go,” Callum says eventually.
We exit the luxury hotel room that suddenly feels more like a plush prison cell. The hallway is empty as we move towards the elevator. Once inside, no one speaks, the silence heavy as lead.
The black SUV waits for us outside, and Harrison slides into the driver’s seat while the rest of us pile in.My hands clasp together in my lap on top of my backpack, knuckles white, as I stare out at nothing in particular, trying to make sense of the nonsensical.
As the city passes by in a blur, I let my mind wander over the events that have led me here. A girl from Westfield, now caught up in a world where blood and loyalty write the rules. It’s ironic, really. All those years clawing my way out of one pit just to trip and fall into another.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire.
Harrison drives with purpose, the streets of Crestmont becoming increasingly familiar as we near the campus. No words are exchanged; we all seem lost in our own reflections.
Finally, the SUV pulls up outside my building, the structure a stark reminder of the life I was living just hours ago. It’s modest, unassuming, a world away from the luxury of the hotel room or the dark promises of The Crowned Syndicate.
The campus looms ahead in the dark night, a silent sprawl of brick and shadow. I adore the old buildings and gothic spires, but tonight, it almost feels hostile. After what went down, the streets should be crawling with cops, yet they’re empty, abandoned.
“Where are the police?” My voice is flat, my throat tight.
Quentin glances at me. “Perhaps they have more pressing matters,” he suggests, but the look he shares with Callum tells me there’s more to the story. Much more.
My pulse quickens, not just from fear but from something else, too—a rush that borders on terrifying thrill. Could The Crowned Syndicate really sway police involvement? Do they wield their influence like some dark cloak, shrouding us from the law’s prying eyes?
I shake the thought away. It’s too much. Too big.
