Page 20 of Boy of Ruin
I couldn’t stay in that house another day, not after all of the fights, and the screaming and the women and fucking coke.
I brush my thumb over my scar again, above my brow, then drop my hand, not wanting to draw any more attention to it.
I force those memories away. I’m good at it. And since I’m stuck in limbo here, afraid to move forward, backward, anywhere, there’s no fucking use thinking about any of this.
“Has Nicolas said anything?” I ask Ria quietly, aware that even with the music and all the noise, most of the people here can’t be trusted completely.
In fact, I don’t trust anyone in here completely.
Lucifer destroyed that for me.
Actually, they both did.
Ria shakes her head, looking down at the glass in her hands, her bronze rings tapping against it. “No.” Her brows pull together, a grief I can understand darkening her eyes. “We both know if I leave here unprotected, they’ll come for me.” She looks up at me through her lashes. “And Maverick…”
My mouth goes dry as she trails off. I want to reach for Ria, place my hand on her knee or something, but I’m not good at that. Comfort.
I’m good at fighting. Destroying shit. Breaking my husband’s heart.
I have no business trying to be a good friend.
But I know what she’s thinking. Maverick is with Ella. He chose her, in that cave at Noctem, right before I shot Maddox Astor.
I wonder if he’s dead.
I haven’t asked Jeremiah, not wanting to talk about it.
I hope he is.
I might not deserve much, but my brother, my real brother, deserved much more than having him as a fucking father.
“We’ll figure it out,” I lie to Ria. I chew on my lip, circle my fingers around the plastic bottle until it flexes in my hand. “Maybe Nicolas could—”
“I don’t want to be with someone because I’m forced to,” Ria says, her words sharp as she glares at me. “I know that you didn’t have a much better life before any of this shit,” she gestures around the club with one hand, and the words sting, but there’s nothing but truth in them, “but I did.” She drops her hand, closing her eyes a second. “My family loves me,” she whispers, almost to herself. Almost as a reminder.
I wish I knew what that felt like.
“And I want to get back to them.” Her golden eyes meet mine again and I nod, not knowing what to say, but understanding her all the same. I don’t have a family to go back to. The only family I have is a man who wants me dead, sold me into a pedophile ring, and my half-brother who might have agreed with my decision to leave Lucifer but probably wants to kill me now that it’s been nearly a month and I haven’t come back.
In my defense, I don’t know if things are different.
I don’t know if they ever could be. Lucifer’s demons could eat him alive. It seemed the more he was around me, the bigger they grew. Like he couldn’t take care of himself because he was so busy watching out for me.
I wanted him to be able to breathe.
To heal, without trying to heal me too.
And that scar over my brow…I resist the urge to touch it again.
Ria shakes her head, swallowing, clasping her hands around her empty glass again, just melted ice inside. “Anyway, I know you’re going through your own shit,” she says on an exhale. Her gaze slides past me and just as I go to tell her I’d much rather deal with her shit than have to look at my own, she adds, “Satan is watching you.”
A small smile pulls at my lips at the nickname. I always thought Lucifer was the demon, personally. But I guess it’s just a matter of perspective. “I know,” I tell her without looking at Jeremiah behind me. I have no doubt the dancer is still in his lap.
He’s not even a man whore, so I don’t know why he bothers pretending to be. He’s been with a lot of women, but he hates people in general. Having them sit in his lap, flirt with him?
I know what he’s trying to do.
And sometimes…it almost works.
