Page 101 of Vows of Ruin

Daisy’s smaller than I remember, curled into herself, knees pulled up, a backpack resting against her legs. She looks up when she sees us, eyes widening before she breaks into a smile that’s too big for a place like this.

“Wrenley! Wrecker!”

She’s up before I can say a word, throwing her arms around Wrecker. He catches her, squeezing her so tight she squeaks. When he pulls back, his voice is rough. “You scared the hell out of us, kid.”

Daisy shrugs, trying to look innocent and failing spectacularly. “I’m sorry. I just… I missed everyone. Maura’s nice, really nice, but I didn’t like being with the other girls.”

I crouch down to meet her eye level. “You didn’t have to run away to tell us that, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t want you to say no,” she mumbles, kicking at the scuffed tile floor. “I don’t wanna be out there. I wanna be home and safe. With you guys.”

Wrecker and I share a look over her head, his full of worry, mine full of everything I can’t say. Home. The word cuts deep. Ours is many things, but safe isn’t one of them.

“Come on,” I say gently. “Let’s get you out of here. We’ll figure it out.”

She’s asleep before we’re halfway home. The steady drone of the road fills the silence, broken only by the occasional rumble of passing trucks. Daisy’s curled in the back seat, cheek pressed to the window, breathing soft and even. The sight of her asleep, the way her shoulders finally relax, hits something inside me I didn’t know was still raw.

“She looks different,” Wrecker says quietly, keeping his eyes on the road.

I glance back. “Yeah. Tired. Like she hasn’t slept in days.”

He exhales, hands tightening on the steering wheel. “You see it?”

I know what he means as soon as he says it. The faint shadow at the edge of her left eye. The kind of mark that doesn’t come from a stumble.

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“Maura said nothing happened. Said the girls would argue sometimes, but she’d have called if—”

“She wouldn’t have called,” I say. “She knows how badly Daisy’s been hurt already. She already knew what it was.”

Wrecker’s jaw clenches. “I should’ve never left her there.”

“Hey,” I say softly, reaching out and placing my hand on his arm. “You gave her a chance to heal. You did what you could. None of us are built for normal anymore.”

He gives a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Well, she doesn’t deserve to live in our version of it either.”

He’s right. Bringing a kid into this, our chaos, our war, is the definition of insanity. But what choice do we have? The world already took too much from her.

“She can stay for now,” I say finally. “We’ll talk to everyone. Figure out what’s next.”

Wrecker nods, eyes still on the road. “You think they’re going to be pissed.”

I smile faintly. “Not at her, they might look at us like we’re crazy.”

By the time we turn down the long driveway toward the mansion, the sun’s dropped behind the trees. The air smells like rain and smoke, the kind that never really leaves this place. When the headlights sweep over the front steps, I see him.

Liam’s sitting on the stairs, elbows resting on his knees, Hugo at his side. The dog’s ears perk up the second he spots us, tail thumping against the concrete. Liam, my husband, my chaos, one half of my heart, looks up. Our eyes meet through the windshield, and something in me finally exhales. The relief that floods through me is cosmic.

Wrecker parks, and before the engine’s even off, I’m out of the car. Hugo bounds forward, but I barely notice. Liam’s already on his feet, moving down the steps toward me. He opens his arms, and I go straight into them. The rest of the world can wait. For now, everyone’s home.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Reaper

The smell in the room is dust, sweat and old wood. Noah sits on the edge of the mattress, eyes shadowed, hands loose on his knees like he’s trying to look relaxed. It doesn’t work. Torque is standing behind me, pacing small, tight circles, his frustration loud in every breath.

“You’ve been dark for eight days,” I say. “You were supposed to check in every forty-eight hours. Tell me why.”