Page 67 of Vows of Ruin

Inside, I run the water, letting it fill the tub until steam curls up into the air. I found lavender soap and soft towels.

She undressed slowly, cautiously, as I help her into the bath without looking directly at her, just giving her space. She sinks into the warmth with a soft gasp, and I see her eyes flutter closed for a second, like her body doesn’t know what to do with this kind of comfort.

I kneel beside the tub and gently say, “Can I ask your name?”

She opens her eyes. “Daisy.”

My chest tightens. There’s something about it, so soft and delicate. A flower growing in concrete.

“How old are you, Daisy?”

“I’ll be fifteen soon,” she says. Then she gives a sad smile, so hollow it shatters me. “Yes… I was the youngest one there.”

My breath catches in my throat.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

She nods. Doesn’t cry. Just sits there with the weight of it all.

I reach for the bottle of shampoo. “Would it be okay if I washed your hair?”

She’s quiet for a beat. Then nods. “Yes… that would be okay.”

I help her lean forward gently. The water sloshes as she shifts. I begin to lather the shampoo into her tangled hair, careful not to tug, fingers working through the knots with patience and care no one else gave her.

“You’re safe now,” I say, softly, the words more for her soul than her ears.

In this tiny moment, steam fogging the mirror, the lavender curling through the air, and the slow rise and fall of Daisy’s breath, something in her begins to settle. Just a little. But enough.

Daisy is already dressed, Margot found her something soft and clean, and I’m brushing out her damp hair while she sits at the bathroom counter. Her eyes keep drifting toward the bathroom door, where Wrecker is standing guard with his back to us. She hasn’t let go of him since he carried her out, not really. And I don’t think he minds.

“That man who carried me,” she says softly, still watching him. “He’s… nice.”

I smile at her through the mirror. “That’s Wrecker. He’s one of the good ones.”

She nods, thoughtful. Then her gaze shifts to the reflection of my face, to the spot where the stitches are fresh. “The man who fixed your cut. Is he your husband?”

I glance up, brushing her hair a little slower. “Reaper? Yeah. He is.”

“But the other man,” she continues, confusion wrinkling her brow. “With the dark hair. He called you Sparrow. And kissed your head. Who is he?”

I meet her gaze in the mirror and grin. “That’s Max, and yes, he’s my husband too.”

Daisy’s mouth opens slightly. “You have two husbands?”

“I do,” I say, still smiling. “I love them both in my own way. And they love me in theirs.”

She is quiet for a moment, then says softly. “That must be nice. To have that much love.”

Her words hit deeper than I expect. I swallow around the lump in my throat. “It is,” I say gently.

She studies me for a beat longer, then glances back toward Wrecker’s silhouette. “Wrecker and Reaper… those are strange names.”

I laugh, brushing her hair faster now. “They’re nicknames from a long time ago. They just kind of stuck.” I finish braiding her hair into a neat plait and lead her to the bed, “You should try and sleep, you need it.”

Just then, there’s a knock on the bedroom door. Daisy stiffens instinctively. I stand, moving slowly so I don’t startle her. “It’s just Reaper,” I tell her gently.

The door opens slightly, “Little warrior,” Liam calls from the other side, voice low. “Torque’s ready with the SUV. We need to head to the other safehouse.”