Page 81 of Ruin

“I understand why you’re mad. But it’s not going to change anything,” Sam replied as he reached for the antibiotic ointment, his tone calm.

“What do you mean it won’t change anything?” I asked, my voice cracking upward as something bitter swelled inside me.

“Claire.” Sam’s voice didn’t flinch. “I think Arik’s been very transparent.”

I stared at the curtain’s edge, light bleeding in across the tile. Transparent. That word felt like a joke.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying, Sam,” I whispered, tension pulling at the back of my neck.

“You’re his. Be mad all you want. But he is not going anywhere.” Sam’s words landed like a stone dropped in water. No ripple. Just weight.

Irritated, I snapped, “He doesn’t own me. I ran last night. I can run again.” The sting of defiance soothed something sharp in my chest.

“For what reason? To prove a point? What is your end game?” His voice rose with surprising heat.

“I don't have an end game,” I shot back. “I just don’t have to do whatever he wants. This is my life.”

My voice trembled, but I held the line. The truth felt brittle, but I needed it to be said aloud.

“It is.” Sam nodded slowly. “Maybe stop fighting for the sake of fighting. Maybe put last night aside and be honest with yourself.”

I exhaled hard through my nose. Part of me understood what Sam was saying and the truth behind it. But another part recoiled, because I hadn’t chosen any of this.

Not Antonio. Not fear. Not Arik.

I didn’t want to be a pawn in someone else’s game, but the truth was harder to pin down than I wanted to admit.

Sam handed me three pills of assorted colors and shapes. “One for pain, two for nausea.”

I looked down at them in my palm, then tossed them into my mouth, and they slid down my throat like chalk. Sam was already holding out the water, well accustomed to the rhythm of this dance.

“I will send room service in again. You need food,” he said, already beginning to repack the medical kit.

I stood from the chair with slow, deliberate motion, one hand reaching out behind me to steady myself.

“Sam,” I whispered.

He turned again, his fingers just grazing the doorknob.

“Am I going to get out of here?” I asked. My voice was too soft to carry the full weight of what I meant. Not just this hotel. Not just this country.

Out of this story. Out of this life.

Sam’s face was unreadable, but his eyes were kind. “Sure,” he said.

A lie, maybe. Or hope. I let out a long exhale, closing my eyes as if that one word might be enough to keep me upright.

“And Arik will be right there, I’m sure,” Sam added, just before he slipped out into the light.

The door clicked shut behind him.

I slumped back into the chair, the silence returning, louder than before.

Chapter Thirty

Claire

As I slept, my dreams were filled with Arik. I could feel his arms around me, the warmth of his embrace. Each touch, each kiss, ignited a fire in me, making my heart race and my chest feel tight. Even in my dreams, the slightest contact with his skin sent shivers down my spine, as if his touch were electrifying every nerve in my body.