Page 44 of Vows of Ruin

Before I can respond, the door creaks open behind us. I turn to see Liam walk out, hair still damp from the shower. Torque stands, brushing his hands on his jeans.

“Just be there for him,” he murmurs low to me. “He’s still in there.”

I nod as Liam approaches. Torque claps him on the shoulder in silent understanding before heading back inside.

Liam sits on the grass beside me, folding one knee up and resting his mug on it. He doesn’t speak for a minute, just stares at the sky like he’s bracing himself.

“That hasn’t happened in a long time,” he says eventually. “I don’t know why it hit me so hard. Everything’s just… stacking. I wasn’t ready for it.”

I reach over and brush a hand through his hair. “Do you want to tell me what happened over there?”

He’s quiet, for so long, I think maybe he won’t answer. I don’t push.

He exhales, the sound rough in his chest. “We were on patrol. Third rotation. The Humvee behind us hit an IED. Our rig flipped, rolled once, maybe twice, I don’t even remember landing.”

He rubs his jaw, and I see his hands trembling just slightly. I reach over and thread my fingers through his.

“I was trying to pull Cruz out of the wreckage. The fire was already spreading. I had the radio in one hand, my other arm under him, but he was bleeding so much my grip kept slipping. There were bullets flying, snaps and whistles so loud I couldn’t think straight. I stood up, no cover, nothing. Dumbest fucking move. Got hit in the side. Here—” he presses my hand to his ribs, the same place I’d been shot. “Dropped like a stone. Couldn’t breathe. Blood, sand. Just choking on all of it. I remember knowing I was about to die. I started praying. And I didn’t even believe in that shit anymore. I’m not sure I still do today.”

My eyes sting. I shift, laying my head in his lap. He sets his coffee aside and runs his fingers gently through my hair.

“Then the second unit showed up. Lit up everything that moved. Pulled what was left of us out, what was left of me. I still didn’t think I would make it home.”

“You did,” I whisper. “You came home. You found me.”

“I did,” he says voice low. “And I’d do it again.”

I tilt my face up to him. “I’m not going to let that war steal any more pieces of you, Liam. You hear me? You survived it. Now you get to live.”

He leans down and kisses me, slow and soft.

The house feels cooler when we step inside, the air laced with tension and the low hum of voices coming from the war room. I glance up at Liam beside me, his jaw still tight, but his hands find mine as we make our way down the hallway. Torque peels off toward the kitchen, and when we push through the glass door, the room is in chaos.

Elias and Margot are both hunched over their respective computers, finger flying across keys like they’re possessed. Maps and documents overlaid with tracking software are pulled up on the screens. There’s coffee, cold food, half-drunk water bottles littering the table, and not one person looks up when we enter.

“What the hell is going on?” I ask, my voice sharp enough to cut through the chatter.

Margot looks up first, eyes wide with adrenaline. “Sebastian’s been making a mess.”

Elias doesn’t stop typing. “We found more records. More files. Fake invoices. Ghosted payments. It’s like he’s trying to rewrite history and frame all of us as part of the Ashford machine. There are documents that say Max ran drugs, that Reaper ran security for the estate—”

“I was in fucking Germany,” Liam mutters, jaw clenching. I reach out and squeeze his hand again.

Margot spins her laptop around to show me a map. “But the good news? He’s been sloppy. He’s leaving a paper trail.”

My brows lift. “So where is he?”

Elias leans back in his chair and exhales hard through his nose. “Lisbon. He flew into Portugal last night, must have left after he attacked you. He’s using the alias, Julian Marek. We have him coming and going from a low-rent apartment and a few public sightings, but he’s off-grid most of the day. Still no pattern.”

I nod sharply, already moving toward the table. “Then get two Serpents on the next flight. The ones we trust most. I want eyes on him by the end of the day. We cover whatever they need.”

Elias is already typing.

Liam’s phone buzzes against the table. He glances at the screen and answers, putting it on speaker. “Hunter. You’re on.”

His voice crackles over the line, graveled and steady. “Boss. We’ve got visitors.”

Liam stiffens beside me. “What kind of visitors?”