Page 152 of Ruin My Life

I pull Brie’s duffle from the trunk and sling it over my shoulder. She doesn’t say a word. Just stands there, fists curled at her sides, eyes blank and unreadable.

“Youknowit’s true, Damon,” Connor snaps. “She made herself—and by extension,us—targets. In a war we can’t win.”

Beside me, Brie flinches.

But there’s no fury in her face. No spark in her eyes.

Just silence.

She absorbs Connor’s words like she’s already told them to herself.

“We’ve handled Songbirds before,” I say, my voice hard like steel. “We can handle whoever comes next. I’ll reach out to Matthias. Set a meeting. Try to manage the fallout—”

“Oh,great plan,” Connor interrupts, laughing bitterly. “Tell him your little plaything revolted and executed his only son. I’m sure he’ll be reasonable.”

The words haven’t even settled before my fist curls into Connor’s shirt and I slam him back against the side of the SUV.

My chest rumbles with the snarl I try to swallow. But it’s too late.

Connor knows how to push my buttons, and he rarely pushes me this far.

Butthis—this istoofar.

He won’t talk about her like that.

Not while she’s standing right here.

Not while she’smine.

“Enough!” Monroe barks, stepping between us and pressing a palm to each of our chests. He shoves Connor back roughly when he tries to push off the side of the car toward me. “Now is not the time to act likeidiotas.”

Chavez grabs my elbow before I can take a swing. “Not when we’ve got real enemies lining up,” he adds.

My pulse hammers. Rage slithers up my spine, settles in my throat like a viper just waiting for permission to strike.

But they’re right.

Connor straightens, brushing Monroe off like he wasn’t just slammed against the SUV. He doesn’t look back as he stalks out of the underground.

For now, I let him go.

We’ll talk later.

And when we do, he’d better choose his words more carefully. Because if he ever says something like that about Brie again, I know Monroe and Chavez won’t be able to stop me.

We all follow behind him, the silence between us louder than footsteps.

As we step onto the street, traffic buzzes and honks around us like we’re just another piece of the noise. Brie walks beside me, head down, staring at the pavement like she’s waiting for it to crack open and swallow her whole.

I brush my knuckles against the back of her hand. Just enough to let her know I’m still here.

She flinches. Her head snaps toward me, eyes wide with something I haven’t seen in her before.

Fear.

But then it shifts—melts into something worse. Something heavier.

Grief.