Page 43 of Ruin Me
When the suitcase is full, I stuff what’s left into my backpack and glance around. “Food.”
“On it,” Harry says, finding a carrier bag and emptying the fridge and cupboards.
“Never did get back to the shops,” I mutter.
“Don’t worry about that,” Callum murmurs. “We’ve got you.”
I don’t argue with him. Not now. I’m tired and irritated, but soon we will have a conversation about me paying my way.
“Ready?” Quen asks, his tone careful, watchful.
“Yeah.” It’s all I can manage without snapping at them for turning my life upside down—again.
Descending the stairs to the SUV waiting outside feels like stepping into a new reality—one with more corners and edges than I’m used to. Thayer and Harrison come up behind us, laden down with my bags.
“Might as well make this a fivesome,” Harrison says.
“Like hell, we are,” Callum shoots back, but the fire in his voice doesn’t reach his eyes. He knows he doesn’t have a choice. Not really.
“Callum,” I start, but he waves me off, face set in lines of reluctant acceptance.
“Fine. But we’re setting ground rules,” he grumbles, and that’s that.
We pile into the SUV, and then Callum sets off, driving around campus to the posh side. Trees give way to manicured lawns and buildings that look more like monuments than student housing. I press the side of my face against the cold SUV window, watching students stroll along paths without a clue of the web of power plays they’re caught in.
Or maybe they know more than they’re letting on.
The vehicle stops, and we spill out onto the curb. The building looms over us, a gorgeous villa-esque type place that makes me smile. Callum leads the way, keycard in hand, and we file into the elevator.
“Top floor,” he says, hitting the button with more force than necessary. The doors close us in, and the ascent begins, silent except for the hum of the lift, which only goes up three floors.
Don’t let that fool you though, when the doors open again, it’s onto a space that could swallow the entire block of flats we’ve just come from. Callum doesn’t pause, heading straight for one of the many doors lining the hallway.
“This one’s yours,” he says, pushing it open to reveal a room that’s anything but humble. A king-size bed sits against one wall, windows stretching from floor to ceiling on the opposite side, offering a view of the campus as though it’s laid out just for me.
“Wow,” escapes my lips before I can stop it. Callum watches, a shadow of something like pride flickering across his features.
“Settle in. Come and find us when you’re ready,” he says, then leaves me alone with my bags and a future that’s never felt more uncertain.
I zip open my suitcase, the sound grating in the opulent silence of this penthouse bedroom, and once again, I unpack, finding places for my belongings in this gigantic room. The university sprawls in front of me, serene from this distance, but teeming with frayed allegiances and whispered conspiracies.
I overheard them talking while I was trying to sleep last night. The Crowned Syndicate’s grip on campus life, once ironclad, is now more like fingers slipping off a ledge—my rescue costing them more than a few bruises and a dented ego. They lost turf and showed a chink in their armour for everyone to see, and here I am, holed up in luxury because of it, mulling over the mess that’s got my name scrawled all over it.
I shove a drawer shut, the thud echoing louder than it should. They saved me, and I’m grateful forever, but at what cost? The balance of power at Crestmont is a house of cards on a shaky table, and itfeels like my exhale could send the whole thing toppling down.
A shiver trails down my spine as I realise that maybe I’m not the damsel in distress they hauled out of that hellhole—I’m the ace up their sleeve. My dad, the ghost in my life story, is a legacy dipped in shadows and danger. His world is laid bare before me now, and all it takes is one statement to pick up that mantle and fight back.
But with that comes a whole bag of shit that I’m not ready to face.
That is to say, Aaron McGowan.
I can’t exactly declare I’m thebig I amwithout him being part of that statement. It is now the only thing holding me back. I don’t want to be vulnerable and need protection in the form of four guard dogs with bloody axes and guns every second of every day. I want to walk through campus on a gorgeous autumn day and feel safe. Or as safe as anyone.
Sighing, I hang up the last shirt, the weight of possibility settling on my shoulders. But one thing remains clear. If The Crowned Syndicate is going to claw its way back to the top, it might just need me to lead the charge. It’s a warped sort of honour, one that has my stomach twisting in knots, but there is power in my bloodline, power I’ve been denied and then ignored because I didn’t know or wanted nothing to do with it.
But now? Now I wonder if embracing that dark heritage is the key to setting things right—or at least tilting the scales back in our favour.
Our.
