Page 68 of Ruin My Life (Blood & Betrayal #1)

Dahlia wraps an arm around her shoulders, grinning. “Don’t be modest,” she says, then nods at me. “She just got accepted to NYU Law.”

My eyes fly wide and I dart forward, pulling Hope into a hug opposite Dahlia. Together, we sandwich her tight.

“Hope, that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you!”

“Thank you,” she squeaks again, giggling breathlessly between us. When we let her go, she exhales like she’s survived an ambush. “But today’s about you. So… how does it feel to be the smartest person in the room?”

I laugh, my cheeks already warm. “I think you’re overselling it.”

Then I smirk.

“But it feels pretty

damn good .”

The room bursts into laughter, teasing, and layered conversation—an easy, electric hum that pulses through the air like a heartbeat. Like home. Like family.

Damon helps serve dinner, and it’s all my favourites.

Stuffed pork tenderloin with herbed potatoes.

Fruit-topped cheesecake with caramel drizzle.

And—because Rebecka can’t keep a secret—she lets it slip that Damon spent an entire week trying to perfect a split pea soup recipe, despite hating it, just because he knows I love it.

The gesture alone makes me want to cry all over again.

As the night winds down, the house softens around us.

Rebecka retreats to her room, a gentle smile lingering on her lips.

Monroe and Lola lounge on the couch together—her legs draped over his lap as she scrolls her phone, flashing him pictures on the screen that make him grunt or smirk.

Chavez and Dahlia have claimed the living room TV for a movie, though they’re mostly arguing about which characters resemble each of them the most. In the kitchen, Lee and Hope wash dishes shoulder to shoulder, voices drifting in and out—about her future in New York, what kind of law she wants to study.

It’s perfect. And somehow, it still doesn’t feel real.

That’s when I notice Damon is missing.

But he’s easy to find. He’s outside on the back porch, settled into a wooden patio chair with a half-empty glass of Coke beside him. The sky has dipped into deep navy, stars barely blinking through the hush of clouds.

I step out into the cool night air and shut the door quietly behind me. My feet pad across the worn boards until he looks up and smiles—slow, sleepy, soft. He sets his glass down, opens an arm.

I melt into it without hesitation .

He pulls me into his lap, and I curl against him, my head on his shoulder, our eyes drifting out to where moonlight flickers silver across the water.

“All partied out?” I murmur.

He hums thoughtfully. “Not really. But I’ll admit… I might’ve come out here hoping you’d follow. Wanted a little alone time with you.”

I lift a brow, my tone teasing. “Didn’t we already have some alone time earlier?”

His laugh vibrates under my cheek. “We did. But that means nothing. I could never have enough alone time with you.”

My heart swells—impossibly, painfully full. No matter what language he speaks, Damon always says the right thing—even when he doesn’t say much at all.

The sea breeze curls around us like a familiar blanket. But under the hush of the waves, one thought keeps tugging me back: the words he whispered in Spanish—the words I’m still not sure I heard correctly.

In secret, I’d slipped away earlier with Rebecka and asked her to help me translate what he’d said. I even made him repeat it on the drive, repeating it to myself since, rolling it over my tongue like a promise I’m still trying to taste.

“Say it again?” I ask softly, curled into his lap. “A little slower.”

Damon’s fingers trail through my hair, gently brushing it back from my face.

“ Un día, mi amor, serás mi esposa.”

“One day, my love… you will be my wife.”

“Y llenaré tu cuerpo perfecto con mis bebés.”

I blush, just like I did when Rebecka translated that part earlier. “And… I’ll fill your perfect body with my babies?”

He smiles in confirmation—a wicked, beautiful smile that still melts me.

Then he continues, slower: “ Pasaré el resto de mi vida amándote, follándote y luego moriré siendo un hombre muy afortunado.”

I roll my lips, chewing on the words I almost—but don’t quite—understand.

“Something… my life… something-something… lucky man?”

“Very close, mi rosa ,” he chuckles, his voice warm against my skin. “Who helped you translate it?”

I scrunch my nose, already turning red. “Your mom. But once we got to the baby part, I figured the rest might be too inappropriate for the woman who gave birth to you.”

Damon huffs a laugh, brushing his knuckles down my cheek. “Rebecka King is a very sweet woman,” he says. “But don’t let that fool you. She’s done, seen, and said it all. More than once.”

I laugh, and so does he—our smiles echoing softly across the porch.

“So?” I nudge him. “Was I close enough that you’ll tell me the last part?”

He’s quiet for a moment. Then he leans in close, his lips brushing my temple. “Close your eyes, Brie.”

I do as he says. It makes everything else sharper—the ocean waves, the wind in the trees, the steady beat of his heart against my back.

“The first part was right,” he whispers, his voice reverent. “One day, you’ll be my wife. I’ll fill you with my babies—when you’re ready, of course.”

He kisses the curve of my ear, and I melt into him.

“The second part…” he breathes, “was a promise. To spend the rest of my life loving you… fucking you… and dying a very lucky man.”

My cheeks are on fire. I go to open my eyes—

But his palm slips gently over them.

“But that’s only if you say yes.”

“...Yes? To what—?”

His hand falls away. I blink.

I’m stunned when my eyes fall onto the small red velvet box nestled in his other hand, held out in front of me.

My heart lurches.

He flips the lid open with his thumb .

Inside sits a ring unlike anything I’ve ever seen—something no one else could have dreamed up, because it was made for me.

The band is twisted white gold vines, with tiny leaves curling along the sides. Diamonds glint from the petals of a rose-shaped setting, like delicate but deadly little thorns. And nestled in the center—dark and gleaming—is a black diamond.

It’s perfect. Haunting and lovely.

And mine .

“Damon…” My throat tightens, every other word fleeing at once.

“Marry me, mi rosa ,” he whispers.

Tears break free, slipping down my cheeks as I nod, choking back a sob. He slips the ring onto my finger, and it settles against my skin like it was always meant to be there.

I turn in his lap, cradling his face in my hands, and kiss him again and again through the blur of my tears. He covers my hand with his own, the ring pressing into his palm like he’s using it to anchor himself in this moment.

When I finally stop crying long enough to speak, I whisper, “I love you, Damon.”

“I love you too,” he breathes, brushing his lips over mine like a vow.

And as much as I want to scream the news to the world—to run inside and show the others, to wake Rebecka and throw my arms around Dahlia and Hope—I remember what he said when I first stepped out here tonight. That he just wanted a little time with me. Just us.

So I don’t say anything.

Not yet.

I let the stars bear witness.

Let the ocean carry the secret.

Let the ones I’ve lost—Mom, Dad, Amie—smile down on us and celebrate with the wind.

For now, I stay here in his arms.

Just me and Damon.

And the promise of forever.