Page 90 of Ruin My Life

All three of them are watching me now. Waiting for my call.

“We’ll ask her,” I say finally. “See what she says.”

But I already know.

Brie Rosenberg doesn’t sit on the sidelines.

And if we don’t move fast enough, she won’t wait for us to catch up.

IHEAD BACKup to the penthouse with Connor at my side. Monroe’s taking first shift watching The Speakeasy, and Lee’s still planted in front of his screen, tracking Lola’s movements and trying to unravel whoever the hell breached our server.

The elevator opens into the entryway, and I immediately spot Chavez and Dahlia seated at the kitchen island. He’s leaning toward her, his elbow stretched across the counter like he’s mid-flirt—until he sees us. Then he straightens so fast you’d think he was caught stealing from a cartel.

“Maybe we should take another ride in the elevator,” Connor mutters beside me, smirking as he elbows my arm.

Dahlia doesn’t even flinch at the insinuation.

“How’s the hand, Connor?” she asks, not looking away from her drink.

Connor flexes his fingers. “Healing nicely. Though, personally, I think I could’ve skipped the stitches.”

“Right,” I mutter, shaking my head. “Thanks for coming, Dahlia. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

She stands from the stool, smiling politely. “I should be going. Early shift tomorrow.”

“Of course.” I nod. “Before you head out, can I ask—”

“She’s going to be fine,” Dahlia cuts me off gently. “Just a surface burn. It’ll heal in a day or two. She knows what to do.”

I nod, my jaw tight. “Good.”

Her gaze sharpens a little. She steps closer, lowering her voice. “I know I don’t have to tell you this, but keep an eye on her. She won’t come to you for help when she needs it, but it’s likely she will need it all the same.”

“Thought you were a trauma nurse, Dal, not a therapist,” Connor calls from the fridge, where he’s already cracking open an energy drink.

Dahlia ignores him, eyes still on me—unflinching and completely serious.

“I’ll watch her,” I say, my voice lower than hers now. “Should I call you if I notice anything in particular?”

She shakes her head. “There’s nothing I can do for her.” Her tone is so final, so certain, it hits like a slap. But she softens it a second later with a faint smile. “Just... be careful. That girl’s not fragile, but even stone will break eventually.”

Without another word, she turns, patting my bicep gently as she walks past.

“Don’t get into too much trouble, boys,” she calls over her shoulder.

Connor and Chavez say their simultaneous goodbyes, but before she steps into the elevator, Dahlia meets my gaze.

“Call me if you need me, Damon,” she says. “But try not to need me again anytime soon.”

I hear the translation loud and clear:try not to gethurtagain anytime soon.

Most of the rooms are spoken for—semi-claimed by the guys when we’re not on rotation. Only one was left unoccupied, so I told Chavez to settle Brie there. Second-last door on the right.

It’s closed. Locked

I knock lightly.

There’s a beat of silence. Then a rustle.