Page 179 of The Art of Ruin

I swallow once, the motion rough. “I know.”

“You don’t do anything that risks her.”

That almost makes me laugh, because the idea that I could risk Casey is so abhorrent I can barely stand hearing the words. Yet I did when I set out on my vendetta to destroy her ex, thinking I was protecting her. “I know,” I repeat.

But when I free my wrist, Nico lets me.

Matteo is already moving toward the door. Rossi is giving coordinates into his phone. I think of Letty at home, safe and sound with Isabella, not knowing the woman she loves is somewhere frightened because of the mess I made.

I failed both of them.

That thought goes into the same dark place as everything else.

Later.

If there is a later.

For now, there’s only Casey.

And the man who took her.

30.Casey

Jasper is devolvingright in front of my eyes. I can see it in the pacing first. The uneven turns, the hand dragging through his hair, the way he keeps checking his phone as if he expects the screen to give him back the life he burned down himself. The warehouse is cold enough that my fingers have gone numb but sweat dampens his collar and shines faintly at his temples.

He looks like a man being chased by demons he still thinks he did nothing to deserve.

My wrists ache where the ties cut into them behind the chair. At first, the pain terrified me because it made everything too real, but after a while, it became useful. Pain gives you something to measure. Something to return to when panic gets too big.

My shoulder throbs where he shoved me earlier. My cheek feels tender from when he grabbed my face and told me to stop looking at him like he was a monster before back-handing me across the cheek.

I hadn’t realized I was looking at him like that, but that’s what he is. The funny thing is, I don’t think Jasper thinks he’s a monster. That might be the worst part.

“You know he’s not coming to save you because he loves you,” Jasper says, pacing past me again. “He’s coming because men like him can’t stand losing what they think belongs to them.”

My throat is dry. My voice hurts when I use it, but silence seems to feed him too much. “You don’t know him.”

He laughs, spinning toward me. “And you do?”

Yes.

No.

Maybe.

That’s the part hurting so much beneath the fear. I know Adriano’s hands when they’re gentle. I know his voice in the dark when he thinks I’m half asleep. I know the way he kisses Letty’s forehead when he leaves for work. How he pretends not to notice when she steals fruit from his plate, how he looks at me when he thinks I can’t see him watching.

But I also know he lied.

I know he made himself judge and executioner and decided I didn’t need the truth because he was handling it.

Both versions exist.

And God help me, I love him anyway.

Jasper’s phone rings again.

He goes still so abruptly, my pulse leaps. “What?” he snaps, answering.