Page 47 of Vows of Ruin

“You don’t leave here unless we say so,” I tell them, my voice low and even. “There will be someone with you at all times. No solo errands, no phones unless cleared. If you breathe without permission, someone will see.”

Jessa shifts like she might cry again, but I don’t have it in me to care.

“When do we start?” she asks softly, like she’s eager to make amends.

I lean forward, resting my hands on my thighs. “You don’t. We will decide the next steps. And if... if we need your help, we’ll come to you. Until then, you sit, you wait, and you stay useful by staying the hell alive.”

She nods quickly. Matthew doesn’t speak. Smart man.

When we’re back in the car, Torque takes the wheel, his hand drumming against it in a restless beat. He’s been quiet since we walked out. That makes two of us.

After a few miles, I speak. “We need something good to happen. Balance the scales for a minute.”

He glances at me, then back to the road. “What are you thinking?”

I smile, small and quiet. “I already texted Max. The others are setting things up. Margot’s keeping Wrenley distracted.”

Torque lets out a low hum. “You’re doing it, huh?”

I nod, “It’s time.”

He grins, one of the rare genuine ones that says he’s been waiting for this for as long as I have. “You’re going to offer vows to Wrenley. Finally.”

I look out the window, thinking of her laugh, her fire, the way she looked with blood on her hands and still somehow untouchable.

“Yeah,” I say. “I am.”

Chapter Twenty

Wrenley

The blender whirs loudly on the counter as I toss another scoop of vanilla into the metal cup. Margot leans against the island, twirling a spoon like she’s conducting an orchestra and not just waiting for her sugar fix.

“This is the third one this week.” She says smirking. “You know that, right?”

I shrug, unapologetic. “Max wouldn’t stop for milkshakes. So now we make our own. And I work out enough to have one every day.”

Margot just giggles. That kind of giggle, like she knows something I don’t. Before I can question her, the front door creaks open and Hugo bolts from the kitchen, tail wagging like mad. That only means one thing, family.

A blur of Torque rushes past the kitchen entry like he’s on a mission. I don’t even have time to follow him before Margot hurls the whipped cream can at me. “Here,” she says with a grin, “Finish yours.”

I pop the cap and swirl a cloud of cream over the top of my glass. Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement in the doorway. Liam stands there, one arm braced above him, phone in hand, eyes glued to me. The corners of his mouth curl with the kind of intense heat that could melt steel.

“Want one?” I ask, holding up the glass.

He walks toward me, slow and deliberate. Predatory. My heart stutters, and I have to look away. I dip my finger into the whipped cream and lift it to my mouth. His hand snaps out, catching my wrist midair. His mouth is on my finger. Hot. Wet. Slow.

He sucks the whipped cream off with a low, satisfied sound. My lips part, breath catching. He lets go and steps closer, lowering his voice until it slides right beneath my skin.

“Whipped cream’s only good if I’m licking it off your body.”

Margot chokes. “That was so fucking hot.”

I’m still trying to remember how to breathe when I grin, just barely, and say, “That can be arranged.”

Liam’s smile deepens, all sin and promise. “Later,” murmurs. “Right now, I’ve got a surprise for you. Go get changed.”

“Changed into what?” I ask, blinking. The statement hits me like whiplash.