Page 111 of Vows of Ruin

For a moment, I let myself sink into it. The peace. The warmth. The strange, fragile gentleness after the frenzy of last night. Then I ease myself out from between them. Max murmurs something unintelligible and rolls onto his back. Liam’s fingers tighten for a breath before releasing. Neither one wakes. I press a soft kiss to Max’s shoulder, another to Liam’s temple, then slip out of the room quietly.

The mansion feels different this morning. Not softer, just quieter. The day hasn’t had a chance to get its hands on it yet. In the kitchen, the familiar smell of coffee grounds pulls me into motion. I fill the pot, hit the button, and lean against the counter as I wait for the first drip. I’m halfway through my first sip when small footsteps shuffle behind me. I turn. Daisy stands in the doorway, hair tangled from sleep, hoodie too big, eyes a little unsure.

“Morning,” I say gently.

She rubs her arms. “Can I… have coffee?”

I smile. “How about some juice instead?”

She hesitates, then nods. There’s something in her expression, not fear, not guilt, but that quiet, heavy look kids get when something’s sitting too big on their chest. I pour her juice and slide it across the counter. She takes it but doesn’t drink. Just keeps glancing toward the hallway like she’s afraid someone else will walk in.

“You okay?” I ask softly.

Daisy bites her lip. Looks at the floor. Then around the room. Then at me.

“I… can I talk to you,” she whispers.

Something inside me tightens. Not dread, instinct.

I grab my coffee, slide my hand over hers, and nod toward the back door. “Come on,” I say quietly. “Let me show you my favorite place to sit. To think. Or talk, if you want.”

She follows me out into the early morning light. The grass is damp, the air cool, and the garden is still half-asleep. We walk to the far corner where the massive oak spreads its branches like an old, patient guardian. I sit with my back against the trunk. Daisy settles beside me, close enough that our shoulders brush.

She takes a long sip of juice, then sets the cup down beside her. “Wrenley… there’s something I think you should know.”

I turn toward her fully. “Okay,” I say. “No rush. Just tell me when you’re ready.”

She nods, trying to steady herself. I wait, coffee warm in my hands, sunlight creeping through the branches, heart steady but braced, for the words I can feel building behind her silence.

Daisy keeps twisting the hem of her sleeve, her gaze fixed on the grass between us. When she finally speaks, it comes out small. Fragile. “I stole the money,” she whispers.

I don’t react. Not with shock. Not with anger. I just nod. “Okay. Tell me why.”

Her breath hitches. She picks at the bark of the oak tree.

“I… I didn’t fit in at Maura’s,” she admits. “Not really. The girls were nice enough, but it felt like I was supposed to… belong there. And I didn’t. Not the way they wanted.”

Her voice thins with embarrassment. “And I just… I feel safer… With you. With Wrecker.” She swallows. “I know I shouldn’t have left without saying anything, but I—I didn’t want to be somewhere that didn’t feel like home.”

Something warm and painful settles behind my ribs. “You should’ve told Maura,” I say gently. “She would’ve understood. We could have come and gotten you.”

Daisy nods, but her shoulders hunch like she’s bracing for reprimand. “I know,” she whispers. “I just… panicked. And I didn’t want to bother anyone.”

“You are not a bother.”

The words come out fiercer than I intend. She startles a little, then smiles timidly. I exhale slowly, letting the moment settle. “Alright,” I say softly. “Now tell me about the black eye.”

Daisy blinks, surprised I caught it. Her hand comes up instinctively, brushing the fading bruise. “Oh. That.” She shrugs. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

I wait. She sighs.

“One of the older girls got mad because I wouldn’t let her shower first. She shoved me. I shoved back. She swung first.” She pauses. “I ducked. Mostly.”

I stare at her for a second, then huff a laugh. “I’m proud of you,” I say.

Her eyes widen. “For getting hit?”

“No, for standing your ground.”