Page 90 of Marked
His hand stills.
“Vic found me in the foster system a few years later, said he had been looking for me. He was my legal guardian and had the papers to prove it.” I look down and pluck at the design on his shirt. “At first I was happy, I thought he would take care of me, take me to school, and we would be a family. I couldn’t have been more wrong.”
“Since I was so small, Vic gave me ajobafter school. He would send me into houses of what he called ‘the family’. I was to pick up money they owed, and if the money wasn’t out, I was supposed to call and tell him what was available to pay their debts.”
“Stealing is what it was. The money was never out in the open. It was always in freezers, under mattresses, behind pictures, or in jars in the kitchen.” My head shakes and my fingers grip his shirt tighter. “He watched them. Set the others on their tails and tracked where they kept anything of value. And when I refused to do it anymore, he locked me in the room at Carnage. But back then it was this dive of a restaurant. He would leave me in there for days until the smells pouring down the stairs made me sick from hunger.”
A low sound builds in Ruin’s chest, and I wrap my arms around him.
“I didn’t want to do it anymore. I wanted out. But I was so hungry all the time and then I started to get sick. It was simple at first. A cold or allergies. But my weight dropped and I walked around like I had the flu. Vic took me out of school after the counselors began to ask questions, and I never finished. Never got my diploma.”
I push from his body and begin to pace around the small room. “You have no idea how many times I tried to run, to get away. Every time he would bring me kicking and screaming back. The last time, when I was fifteen, he tossed a briefcase of photos at my feet. Each one was of me in somebody else’s house with their money in my hands. It was then I knew there was no ‘leaving’. If I wanted out, I had to buy my freedom.”
My eyes dip to him, and he is more impassive than before. Like a statue as his midnight eyes track every move I make.
“So I worked and I worked. Did every task he put me on, made enough money to get my apartment and a taste of freedom. But I wasn’t stupid enough to think Vic didn’t know where I was. Hell, if I was a minute late for work, his goons were beating at my door.”
I walk back to him and crouch before his chair. My hands dig into his thighs, begging him to understand, to not think I am as bad as Vic for the things I’ve done. The things I had to do. “For almost fourteen years I was at his mercy, Ruin. Caught in a hell I couldn’t change.” He remains silent, watching me, and something inside me fractures. “But now I’m free. And I know it’s thanks to you. To your team, and Markus, and Raina. You all showed me that supernaturals can be the good guys, the heroes–” My voice cracks and I drop my eyes to his lap.
“I’m not a good person, I know that. And I probably deserve the same or worse as Vic, but I–”
Strong hands flow into my hair, forcing my head back. Ruin stares at me, his eyes backlit by a fire of darkness that smolders and beats into the very center of my being. “You arenothinglike him.” His voice is all angry growl. “You are nothing like me, or Vic. You are pure in this, Lilah. Innocent. You should’ve grown up to be a doctor or a damn veterinarian with two point five kids and a white picket fence.”
He climbs from the chair and kneels before me, hands still in my hair. “I will never think of you as a monster. Not now, not ever. You arenotthe bad guy, do you understand?”
My eyes are wide as I stare at him. His chest heaves and a flush of color has stained his cheeks under the fine wash of stubble. And he’s beautiful.
Even more than that first night he appeared at the end of the bar.
I rise up and press my lips to his. He groans against my mouth and his arms wind around me like vises, holding and keeping me to him.
It’s only when he picks me up in his arms that I realize the tears have been flowing for a long time and the almost hazy fatigue follows swiftly. It’s like running a marathon, being sick for a week, and watching every romantic drama at one time. I sway against him.
He cradles me as he climbs to his feet and takes me into the bedroom.
With tender care, he lays me in the mussed bed and curls up around me from behind, fully clothed. He presses his hand over my stomach and nuzzles my hair. Even over a foot taller, he fits around me like he was made to.
It’s warm in the curve of his body, safe. And there hasn’t been a time in the last fourteen years where I can ever remember feeling that way. My eyelids flutter and I yawn. Widely.
“Sleep, baby girl.” I can almost hear the smile in his voice. He strokes a hand through my hair, and the fatigue doubles. “That’s it. Rest, baby. I’m right here.”
***
Muffled almost angry voices wake me some time later. I stretch in Ruin’s bed, surprised my clothes are still on, and I’m almost blissfully happy as reality makes a gentle return.
“Absolutely not,” Ruin’s voice is icy, deadly.
“We got him, Cap. We have confirmation of the shipment. This is our chance to nab him once and for all.”
Are they talking about Vlad?
I push from the mattress and pad over to the partially closed door. Light from the hall spills into the front room, and I can just make out Ruin’s broad back through the narrow opening.
“And where did the tip come from?” Ruin’s voice is scathing. “A damn anonymous shifter at the ballet company? For all we know, Vlad could have put them up to it. It could be a trap.”
“Or it could be the real deal,” Gage counters. “We’ve waited too long not to act now.”
“And what did Markus say?”
