Page 29 of Vows of Ruin

Wrenley shrugs, as if she didn’t just assassinate someone in the middle of the club. “She called me ‘princess’ and told me to stay quiet.”

Everyone collectively winces. Margot's mouth quirks up like she’s trying not to laugh.

“Well,” Torque mutters, “She deserved that.”

Max shakes his head, smiling faintly, then gives me a look, the kind of look that says we need to talk now. I nod. We both lean down, pressing a kiss to the top of Wrenley’s head. She squints up at us like we’ve just been caught sneaking cookies before dinner, but Margot distracts her with some crazy scheme she has cooked up.

Max leads me into the kitchen. His shoulders are tense, jaw set, and I feel the shift immediately.

“What’s going on?” I ask, voice low.

He turns to me, resting both palms on the counter behind him. “Doc pulled more info than Elias could.”

I nod. “Okay. Good. We need it.”

Max’s gaze sharpens, and then he says it. “Liam.”

That single word lands like a gut punch. He hasn’t called me that since we were fifteen, since the day they all named me Reaper, and I told him to never use my real name unless it fucking mattered.

My back straightens. “Tell me.”

He exhales through his nose and drags a hand through his hair. “It’s worse than we thought. Sebastian didn’t just get out of the facility; he was quietly released. Vivian was making monthly payments to keep him there and off the radar. When she died, the payments stopped, and he vanished.”

“We knew that.” I cross my arms.

Max nods. “And his diagnosis, it’s not just an anti-social personality disorder. He's a high-functioning sociopath with obsessive tendencies. Doc found session notes from one of the psychiatrists and said he fixated on a girl he only called ‘the baby.’ He wanted her gone. Or kept. Depending on the day.”

“Wrenley,” I whisper, and my blood runs cold.

Max continues. “There were incidents. The staff got hurt. They moved him to isolation more than once, but the money kept him from being flagged as a real threat.”

“Jesus.”

“He’s not just some psycho with a vendetta, brother; he’s been preparing. Watching. He thinks this is love.”

The silence that follows is heavy. I look towards the living room, where I know Wrenley is probably laughing with Margot right now. Unaware. Still vulnerable. No. Not on my watch.

Max’s voice drops. “We have to be ready for anything.”

I nod slowly, then clench my jaw. “We will be.” Even if it kills me.

Wrenley pokes her head into the kitchen, a smirk tugging at her lips. “If you two are done gossiping,” she teases, “I could use some help in the shower.”

She winks, then vanishes down the hallway like a goddamn temptation carved in silk. Max and I exchange a look. I arch a bow. “Does this woman have any concept of stamina?”

He laughs, already pushing away from the counter. “Nope. And we wouldn’t love her half as much if she did.”

We follow the trail of her clothes like breadcrumbs, her boots, then her jeans, her tank top flung over the banister. My blood heats with every step. By the time we reach her bathroom, my pulse is pounding in my ears.

She’s standing at the vanity in nothing but a black lace thong, hair twisted up in a messy bun, wiping away smudged eyeliner. We’re both staring at her like she’s carved from light and sin.

“Took you long enough,” she says, still not looking at us.

Max chuckles. “We figured you’d want a head start.”

She tilts her head, catching my gaze in the mirror. Her smile is sharp. “I thought maybe you’d chicken out.”

I step forward, slow and deliberate. “And yet here we are,” I murmur, voice already thick with want. “Still not running.”