Page 13 of Ruin My Life (Blood & Betrayal #1)

Damon

C HAVEZ IS STILL LAUGHING AS I SHUT the door behind me, leaving Brianna alone in the holding cell. “Shut it,” I mutter, shooting him a warning glare.

“Sorry,” he says, grinning like he’s still replaying the entire scenario in his head. “Man, is it bad that I like her? She’s such a firecracker.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop the way the corner of my mouth twitches upward.

He’s not wrong.

“Connor should be back soon. Keep an eye out for him while I call Monroe and Lee.”

Chavez gives me a lazy two-finger salute, still wearing that stupid grin as I head back to the security office.

Brianna has a way of getting under my skin. It’s not her words, or the way her skin felt—just that damn look in her eyes, like she’s already figured out how to dismantle me without raising a finger.

I sit down and call Lee. The line barely rings once before he picks up.

“You’re on speaker,” he says. “What’s up?”

“How’s it going there?”

“We just finished setting up two cameras,” Lee replies. “Living room and main entrance. I’m working on unlocking the office now.”

“ Chica’s got a lot of security,” Monroe calls out from somewhere farther away. “Most of it’s on her office. ”

“Not surprising.” I lean back into my chair. “She almost broke out of the restraints when I mentioned we’d be digging into her laptop.”

Silence follows on the line, so quiet I can practically hear Lee’s brain processing.

He’s picturing a completely different scene in that little cell—one with more than just my hands by her hips and my voice in her ear…

“But there’s a change of plans,” I say, cutting off wherever that train of thought is headed. “Bring her laptop and phone back here with you. Don’t waste time hacking into her network.”

Lee hesitates. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

No. Not even close.

But I trust her.

Not blindly. Not completely. But enough to believe she tried already.

Brie doesn’t half-ass anything—especially if it’s related to her revenge. And if Lee, the most obsessive codebreaker I know, says she’s one of the best he’s ever seen?

That tells me we won’t get much further than she did.

“She’s got a program that she thinks can narrow down whoever contacted her. We let her use it. We watch her while she works.”

Monroe’s voice cuts back in, closer now than he was a minute ago. “And what does she get in return?”

I pause.

Monroe’s not just asking because he’s curious. He’s reminding me what kind of line I’m about to cross.

“If she gives us the name,” I say, “I’ll let her go.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then Monroe scoffs.

“She’s going to make a boludo out of you.”

I ignore him—even though the words sit like lead in my gut. “Call me when you’re on your way back.”

“Will do,” Lee replies, and the line drops.

I toss my phone onto the desk and drag a hand down my face .

Monroe’s not wrong. If anyone else had hacked into my system—come out with half the information she did—I wouldn’t have hesitated. They’d already be en route to the pig farm. No questions asked.

This isn’t like me.

I don’t do weaknesses. I don’t leave loose ends—especially not ones that threaten everything I’ve built.

But Brianna… she’s not just a threat.

She’s a storm I never saw coming.

I can’t get her out of my head.

The fire in her eyes. The way she looks at me like she’s daring me to break her—or to try, at least.

She doesn’t beg. She doesn’t tremble.

She bites back with sharpened teeth.

And it’s been a long time since someone made me feel anything other than in control .

I rake my fingers through my hair and curse under my breath.

I should get rid of her. Now. Yesterday .

But every time I think about pulling the trigger on that decision, something makes me hesitates.

Something wants to see how far she’ll go.

Wants to see how far I’ll go.

If I let her go… there’s no guarantee she won’t come back to haunt me.

And there’s no guarantee that if she runs—

I won’t chase her .

C ONNOR IS PATCHED up by Dahlia, and he returns to the bar not long after my call with Monroe and Lee. With him covering the front and Chavez keeping an eye on our unwelcome guest, I finally have a few minutes to head home and take a breather.

I should sleep. God knows I haven’t done that properly in days .

But I can’t—not yet. Not when Lee and Monroe will be back any second, and not when Brianna’s next move could shift the entire board.

I scan my key fob in the elevator, unlocking the penthouse button, and ride all twenty-one floors to the top. The metal doors slide open directly into my apartment.

Years ago, I’d have looked at a place like this and spat at it. All this space—for one man—while families two blocks over cram into shoeboxes and pray the plumbing holds.

Even now, with money stacked in accounts I barely check, this place still feels… excessive. Like I’m playing a role I haven’t earned. Like I’m still just a poor kid trying on a rich man’s suit.

But it’s convenient. Right across from the bar. And after I gutted the building's old tech and rebuilt the security system myself, it’s practically a fortress.

I’m halfway through the closet when the elevator dings again, announcing someone’s arrival as good as any doorman.

“Damon? You here?” Lee’s voice echoes down the hall.

He doesn’t wait for an invite to come in. None of them has to. Everyone in my inner circle has keys to this place—same as I have access to every corner of their lives. That’s what our loyalty looks like. What I’ve always wanted it to be.

“Yeah,” I call back, grabbing the first pair of sweatpants I find and heading back toward the front entryway.

Lee’s standing just inside, dark circles still etched under his eyes. After tonight, I definitely owe him a vacation that I know he won’t take.

“We’ve got her laptop set up in the security office,” he says, but the crease between his brows gives away how uncertain he feels. “You really sure about this? I don’t like giving her direct access to the network.”

I glance down at the sweatpants in my hands, only half listening to Lee.

They’re way too big for her… but they’ll have to do.

“She already hacked us once,” I remind him. “We’re not giving her anything she doesn’t already have. You’ll watch her every second. And I trust you to shut her down if she steps out of line.”

Lee raises a brow at the pants I’m holding.

“So. I take it those mean you’re done ogling her?”

I just grumble as we head for the elevator.

We ride down and cross the street, the horizon bleeding into early morning gold between crumbling rooftops and steel beams. The Speakeasy is quiet now that we’re approaching dawn.

In the back room, Monroe, Connor, and Chavez are already waiting. Brianna sits in the chair, still bound, her glare sharp enough to cut glass.

We untie her, and I hand over the sweatpants without a word. She scowls at them like I’ve just offered her a snake, then yanks them on, rolling the waistband twice to keep them from falling off her hips.

They hang low, loose around her thighs, and I have to look away before my gaze lingers too long.

We escort her through the back of The Speakeasy, boxing her in on all sides until we reach the security office. At a glance, it might look like we were protecting the president. But we all know it’s about preventing an escape I’m sure she’s been plotting since she woke up here.

Lee’s already set her laptop up on my desk. I lean against his while he guides her into the leather chair. His hands are braced on the backrest, and his eyes are sharp, fixed on her fingers as she signs in with an obscenely long password.

Connor drops heavily into Lee’s usual chair beside me, while Chavez and Monroe take position at the door, arms folded, stone-faced.

Watching. Waiting.

Brianna scans the room with quick, calculating eyes. Then she glances back over her shoulder at Lee.

I watch her lips curl into a subtle smirk.

“Think you can keep up with me, Lee?”

Her voice is teasing, lilting just enough to bait a reaction.

But Lee doesn’t even blink. “You don’t get where I am by being slow,” he says flatly .

I almost smile.

Lee’s used to handling business behind a screen. He’s awkward around strangers, tense under pressure, and he usually fades into the background whenever we bring someone in he’s not familiar with.

But not this time.

This time, he’s locked in.

And I can’t help but wonder if it’s because he respects her skill—or because he trusts her about as much as he trusts an update not to bug his software.

She turns to the screen and starts typing, and the sound of her fingers tapping the keys fills the room.

I watch her. The way she leans into the work. The way she narrows her eyes when something interests her. The way her lips press together—tight and focused.

She’s fast—faster than Lee—but where his typing is sharp and aggressive, hers is light. Precise. Controlled.

Lee watches her closely as she shreds every file with my name attached. Then he runs a sweep to confirm it—no aliases, no metadata, no buried traces.

Gone—from everywhere but her pretty little head.

Once he’s satisfied, he gives her a nod. “Now track the number.”

She pivots like it’s nothing, cracking her knuckles before she starts to work.

Lee’s eyes narrow as he watches her fingers fly, and for the first time since I met him, I see something that almost looks like awe flicker in his gaze.

She’s not just skilled—she’s elite.

There’s no name, address, or account attached to the phone number, but the message was sent over Wi-Fi, which required an internet connection. That means it left behind an IP and a timestamp, and in under ten minutes, she traces the origin of the text to an internet café.

She plugs the information into a program I’ve never seen before—one she clearly built herself.

The second it loads, my jaw tightens .

It’s a surveillance tool. One that pulls camera angles from across the city and pieces them together like a goddamn forensic mosaic.

She feeds it the café’s geographical data, and it spits out three separate angles showing everyone inside the café at the moment she got the message.

She narrows the parameters again, isolating people who accessed messaging apps during that timeframe. And then, without hesitation, she tilts the screen toward me and Connor.

“Any of them look familiar?”

Three faces stare back at us.

An older white guy with a hunched posture. A lanky kid in an NYU hoodie. And a redhead with her hair twisted into a tight bun.

My stomach sinks.

“I know her,” I say, clenching my jaw. “Lola DuBois. She’ll do anything for the right price. I doubt she’s the mastermind, but she’ll probably know who is.”

Brianna leans back nonchalantly. “So if you already know who she is, you don’t need me anymore.”

Lee leans in over her shoulder. “What was that program you used to pull the café footage?”

“Something I built,” she says flatly, slamming her laptop shut with a little more force than necessary. “Can I go now?”

“A deal’s a deal,” I reply, shrugging like it’s simple. “But just because you walk out of here doesn’t mean you’re safe. You’ve tangled with some dangerous people—”

“Worse than you?” she interjects dryly, her voice dipped in venom.

I grin. “Ten times worse, little rose. Whoever hired Lola to bait you with intel both has connections and knows you well. Which means you’re not just in the game—you’re a piece on the board now.”

“Lee watched me destroy everything I found,” she mutters. “I’ll tell them I couldn’t get in. Problem solved.”

I laugh—the sound comes out sharp and cold.

Obviously she hasn’t been doing this long .

“If you don’t deliver what they want, someone will come knocking. And next time, it won’t be me.”

“Great,” she drawls. “Thanks for the lecture.”

“You’d be safer here,” I say. “Now that I don’t have a reason to kill you myself.”

She squares her shoulders, as if that’s going to make her the least bit intimidating. “I don’t need your protection—I don’t want it.”

“Fine.” I step in closer, lowering my voice until my breath holds like a blade to her throat. “But if you ever breathe a word about what you know, I’ll find out. And then I will have a reason.”

“Understood.” Her voice is cool and composed, though I don’t miss the way she swallows her fear as she looks at me.

She gathers her laptop and phone in record time and darts toward the door.

“Hold on.”

She pauses. But she doesn’t turn.

So fucking defiant …

“I’m going to need those pants back,” I tell her.

She spins to face me, eyes blazing like twin infernos. Her mouth opens in protest—but then she sees the smirk tugging at my lips. And she shuts it.

“Fine,” she growls.

She drops her laptop on the desk, glares at me like she’s already plotting my murder, and hooks her thumbs into the waistband.

She peels the pants off slow, never breaking eye contact.

There’s a glint in her eye as she kicks them across the room and nails me square in the chest.

I catch them— barely .

I stand there, frozen, my pulse hammering as she tugs at the hem of her oversized T-shirt, trying to pass it off as a dress that’d fit a toddler better than it fits her.

“It’s been a pleasure,” she says, every syllable dripping with sarcasm. “I hope we never meet again.”

Monroe opens the door, and she strides out like she owns the place—no backward glance. No fear .

We all stand there silently—like she’s the aftermath of a storm and we’re caught in the wake of her exit.

“Holy fuck,” Lee mutters.

Monroe rolls his eyes. “Keep it in your pants, hermano .”

I turn back to my desk, tossing the sweatpants onto it. “Set me up with access to the cameras you installed today. I want eyes on her.”

“I’ll take second shift,” Connor says darkly, his brow wiggling with ill-intent.

I ignore him. He talks a big game when it comes to women, but that’s all it is— talk.

Chavez leans against the doorframe. “What if someone comes after her? She said she doesn’t want protection.”

I shrug. “We’re not protecting her. We’re protecting me . She knows more about my life than anyone else on the planet—more than the four of you combined.”

And that’s why I should’ve killed her.

I should’ve . But I didn’t.

And part of me prays I won’t have to.