Page 191 of Ruin My Life

I glance at her, thrown by the calm steel in her voice.

She doesn’t look at me. Her gaze is fixed on the laptop, fingers twitching like they’re already coding.

Then it hits me.

“The program,” I murmur. “The one you used to track Lola.”

She nods. “CCTV cameras. If we have a timeframe and a rough location, I might be able to pull something—license plates, faces, body shapes, even reflections. It won’t be easy. The less data I have, the longer it’ll take. But I can do it.”

Her voice is steady. Controlled. But behind her eyes, something fierce burns—guilt, sharpened into focus. It’s that same force I’ve come to recognize in her time and time again. That unrelenting need to fix the things she thinks she broke.

She doesn’t want justice anymore.

She wantspenance.

And no matter how many times I tell her it’s not her fault, I can see it—she’ll keep spilling her own blood if she thinks it might save someone else.

It guts me in a way I don’t have words for.

The only problem is, this place—this house, this island—it was never meant for high-stakes operations. The satellite internet works fine for emails and streaming movies. But not for slicing through encrypted servers. Not for sorting hours of grainy surveillance footage. A job that might already take Brie days could stretch into weeks out here.

And I can’t afford weeks. Not with bodies piling up. Not when we’re already behind.

The Songbirds might not be orchestrating these murders, but theydidburn down The Speakeasy. They made their move. Declared open war on me and everything I built.

And I’m done playing defence.

We’re sitting ducks here—drifting, vulnerable. Waiting to be picked off one by one. And I won’t let that happen. Not to my team. Not to her.

Neverto her.

“Lee,” I say, still watching Brie, “contact the others. Tell them to pack up.”

Brie’s head turns sharply, her gaze snapping to mine, wide and uncertain. Her lips press into a soft frown.

I don’t say it out loud, but I think she hears it anyway.

The quiet ends now.

And maybe… maybe we’ll find our way back to this sliver of peace when it’s all over. This stolen calm where she laughed over milk-coffee, wore my sweatpants, and smiled like the world hadn’t hurt her.

I want to believe I’ll see that smile again. Even just once more.

I draw in one last breath of simplicity, hold it in my lungs long enough to say goodbye, then let it go.

“Tell them…” I say, my voice steady, carved in stone.

“We’re going home.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Brie

IN JUST UNDER AN HOUR,DAMON ANDIare packed. But neither of us feels ready to go.

I stand off to the side, duffle slung over my shoulder, while Damon says goodbye to his mom. The afternoon sun is just starting to crest over the trees outside the front window, casting everything in a quiet, golden glow.

It’s soft. But it’s also bittersweet.