Page 65 of Ruin My Life

Connor holds up both hands in mock surrender, but there’s something darker behind his grin now. A flicker of resentment.

“I let her leave because we made a deal,” I say. “And I’m keeping my eye on her to make sure she holds up her end.”

His grin fades. Eyes narrowing slightly.

“Kind of like that deal you made with Matthias O’Doyle?”

There it is.

His grudge against the Songbirds has never sat quietly—not since the day I met him. He knew the history. Knew I struck a deal with O’Doyle to clear Kings of gang activity and avoid a full-on war. He accepted it. But he neverlikedit.

All I know is they killed someone close to him. He’s never told me who. But I know trauma when I see it. And I know what it means to bond with someone over that kind of damage.

Trauma bonding is real. And it’s strong.

But not strong enough to stop Connor from constantly questioning whether I made the right call.

And deep down, I’m wondering the same thing.

About Brie.

Aboutallof it.

“If it makes you feel any better,” I say, slipping my phone back into my pocket, “O’Doyle’s looking for a reason to retaliate. You might get your chance to put a few more Songbirds down if he does.”

Connor perks up, smug as hell. “Now you’re just buttering me up so I don’t tell Monroe about your little crush.”

“Get the fuck out before I put you down.”

He laughs like I didn’t just threaten his life and struts down the hall, boots thudding against hardwood.

I swear, helivesto test me.

But while Connor often feels like an older brother, Monroe has always been more of a father figure. As the eldest of us, he carries that deadpan, quiet authority that only comes from surviving the kind of shit no one else dares talk about.

And there’s nothing more humiliating than getting scolded by your Hispanic dad—especially when he’s not even your real one.

I glance at my phone again.

Brianna’s finished eating. The empty bowl rests on her kitchen island. Her office door is cracked open, spilling warm light into the dark hallway beyond.

She’s working again. Maybe trying to forget the last twenty-four hours ever happened.

Connor’s words echo back.

You can’t stop watching her, can you?

I shove my phone deep into my pocket, like burying it will somehow shut him up.

I need to stop looking at her.

For my own good.

For hers.

What I need to do is focus—on finding Lola, on figuring out who’s behind this.

She was the one who reached out to Brianna. She put the offer on the table. And Lola doesn’t work for free. Whoever’s backing her has deep pockets—and a deeper interest in my life.