Page 42 of Vows of Ruin

Everyone straightens. Wrenley shifts off my lap and moves to the edge of her seat. Margot sits forward, and Riot actually puts down his beer.

Elias flips the screen around. “It’s a job. Registered under your name, ‘Reaper’. Paid out a few months before Wrenley turned seventeen.”

I step forward, eyes narrowing.

“What kind of job?” Max asks, already tensing.

“Clean-up. Ties to a bribe from the Ashford's. It’s documented. Signed. Timestamped.”

I hardly look at the screen before I speak. “That’s not real.”

Elias glances up. “Then what is it?”

Max looks at the screen. “Look at the date.” he says. “This was three days before I came to get your ass from that hospital in Germany.”

I look at him, then at the laptop. “You’re right. I was overseas on my second tour. Halfway around the world getting blown up and shot, watching my…” I can feel my voice rise. The feel of being back in the desert creeping back in.

The room is dead silent.

I feel her before I see her. Wrenley steps up, warm palm curling over my jaw, forcing my eyes down to meet hers. “I know,” she says softly. “Even if you were here, I wouldn’t believe it. Not for a second.”

She kisses me, soft, sure, full of trust. It steadies me, but I don’t know if it’s enough to save me from the nightmares I know are sure to come once I sleep.

I stare at the transaction details again, dates that don’t line up, signatures that aren’t mine, and the sting in my chest that someone dug into my most vulnerable moments. The weight of attempted exploitation, suspended like smoke in the air. Cards long forgotten in the mess of revelations on the table.

“Then it’s Sebastian,” Elias says, already closing his laptop. “He’s trying to wedge himself into the cracks.”

“Except there are no cracks,” Max says.

“There won’t be,” Wrenley adds, her voice soft and unshaking. “He doesn’t get to decide who we are.”

She looks at me, really looks, and I know what she sees, the thousand-yard stare, the way my fists haven’t unclenched since the file hit the table. She sees it, and she still doesn’t flinch.

“Alright,” she says, rising from her chair with grace that makes me forget for a moment how wrecked she is. “Enough for tonight. Let’s get some rest.”

The group disperses with quiet goodnights and unreadable expressions.

Later in the low glow of our bedroom, we fall into the only comfort we have left. Wrenleys nestled between us, her back pressed to my chest, her arms wound around Max’s waist. Her face is tucked into the crook of his neck like it’s her home.

I’m behind her, one hand resting lightly on her thigh beneath the blanket. Her feet, cold and delicate, are tucked between my calves. I keep them there, warming them with my body heat.

She hums quietly, maybe it’s contentment, maybe it’s exhaustion. I close my eyes for a moment and pretend I don’t feel the tension strung tight through my spine like barbed wire.

Max presses a kiss to her hair. “Are you still awake?”

“Barely,” she whispers. “I needed this.”

Her voice is softer than I’ve heard it in days. I tighten my arm around her, trying to savor the shape of her between us. I’m surrounded by the scent of her hair, it’s roses and something warmer. Just hours ago, this would have brought me peace.

Long after their breathing evens out, I’m still staring at the ceiling. Thoughts from the past keep creeping through to the front of my mind. War, hospitals, not knowing if I’d survive. Memories best left unspoken, playing on repeat…

Chapter Eighteen

Wrenley

The first thing I feel is warmth.

Max’s chest at my back, Liam’s legs tangled with mine, the room filled with the quiet rhythm of shared breathing. It’s mid-morning, light is just starting to creep in through the curtains, soft and golden. My body aches all over, but the feeling of safety holds me still.