Page 101 of Ruin My Life

His luck’s been shit.

Brie slips from my grip like smoke through my fingers. Her absence punches a hollow space across my lap as she clambers back onto her stool, swiping up the drink she left behind and downing what’s left like it’s holy water that mightkeep me away. Her tongue darts out to catch the final shimmer of glitter clinging to her bottom lip, and I watch it disappear like a goddamn love-drunk fool.

“Let me guess,” I say, not even waiting for Connor to speak. “Lola won’t see you.”

He huffs. “Says she’s full up on clients. Doesn’t need more.”

His eyes flick between me and Brie like he’s realizing he walked into a scene he shouldn’t have. He's right—but he’s too smart to say it out loud.

Brie doesn’t look at either of us. She sets the glass down slowly, like her mind’s already miles ahead. That look in her eyes—razor-sharp, ice-cold focus—tells me exactly what she’s thinking.

It's the same thought that just sank its claws into me, too.

“Maybe she’ll see me,” she says, more to herself than to us.

“Technically, you’re already a client,” I add, watching the spark behind her eyes catch and burn.

Connor nods slowly. “You might be right. It’s worth a shot if nothing else.”

Brie straightens her spine and slides off the barstool with a kind of graceful finality—like a blade being unsheathed. Whatever vulnerability there was before is gone now, locked behind steel and calculation. She’s donned her armour again.

Gone is the girl who trembled when I touched her throat.

In her place stands The Black Rose.

She wants answers, just like me—and she’s not going to leave here without them.

“Are you two just gonna stand there,” she says coolly, glancing between us, “or are we gonna meet this bitch?”

Connor looks over at me with a mix of amusement and vague horror. He’s thinking the same thing I am.

Putting Brie and Lola in the same room is the worst fucking idea we’ve ever had.

But maybe also the best.

Because if this goes sideways, there’s not a doubt in my mind—Brie will be the one walking out alive.

And god help anyone who gets in her way.

Chapter Twenty-One

Brie

I’VE BEEN HUNTINGSONGBIRDS FOR MONTHSnow, and I’ve killed more than my fair share. Meeting thisLola DuBoisperson and extracting information shouldn’t be any different.

And yet, as we walk through Blush toward the back rooms, uneasiness coils beneath my skin.

I’ve done my research, and Lola is what the underground likes to call an independent contractor—a euphemism for someone too dangerous to belong to anyone. Her name circulates through New York like smoke—always slipping through fingers, never quite pinned down. The woman can get any job done so long as the paycheck outweighs the moral cost.

She doesn’tdoloyalty. One week she’s working for the Songbirds, and the next she’s helping dismantle their operations brick by bloody brick. It’s not about sides. It’s about the purse.

And it's earned her a fitting nickname:The Snake.

People don’t like her. They fear her. She’s a venomous creature disguised in lipstick and stilettos. Even the biggest dogs tuck tail at the sound of her hiss.

And I’m the prey that somehow slipped past her fangs.

She’s the one who hired Calvin—the bounty hunter I turned into wall paint in that hotel suite. I imagine blowing off his head shaved a chunk off her payday.