Page 120 of Chasing Ruin
“There it is,” I breathe out, almost laughing. “That concern you’ve all suddenly developed that I matter all of a sudden.”
“That’s not fair,” he croaks.
“Isn’t it?” I snap. I know I’m probably just goading him unreasonably.
Because processing what’s been happening to the Nomads—how it might happen to us—is burning a hole in my chest.
We’re too close now. Close enough that I can feel the heat of him. The scent. Close enough that every breath feels almost shared.
His hands lift slightly—hesitant, like he wants to touch me. Like he’s holding himself back.
“It’s not sudden,” he says, softer now. “And you fucking matter. I’m not risking you just to end this sooner, you understand? I’m trying to protect you.”
“By what?” I fire back. “Locking me up? Deciding if I can see Mama, where I can go—who I can kiss?” I startle at my own words. Unable to keep the venom from creeping out.
And finally—finally—something snaps behind his eyes at that. “Don’t,” he says, low.
My heart kicks hard against my ribs. “Don’t what?” I challenge, even though something in me warns I should stop. “Don’t bring up Ryder? Why? Does it bother you that much?”
His hands settle on my shoulders before I can process it. Firm. Warm. Careful.
I go still. My gaze drops automatically to his hands. To the ink. Those intricate, coiling thorns wrapping around his skin—sharp, deliberate, permanent.
A reminder. A promise.
And the strangest thing is—there’s no fear anymore. Unlike the last time his hands were near my throat. No flinch. No instinct to recoil. Just something else. Something tighter.
Frustration coils in my chest, tangled with something I don’t want to name.
“Charlotte,” he murmurs, voice softer now, almost pleading. “Look at me.”
I don’t. If I do, I know I’ll see it. That steady, infuriating calm. That patience. That softness he keeps throwing at me even when I’m making this conversation harder for him—by bringing up that damning kiss that meant nothing.
“I need you to trust me,” he continues, ignoring my attempts to rile him up. His thumbs barely shift against my shoulders before going still again, like he caught himself. “Just for now. Just for this. We’ll handle this and we’ll try our best so that no one else gets hurt, okay? I promise you I will get you through this. Together.”
Everything feels too loud. Too close. Too much. God. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
The danger. The waiting. The way the walls keep closing in. The way he stands here like he’s the only solid thing in a world that’s about to collapse.
In that moment, I recognize another feeling that the real Ruin gives me.
Solace. Not the peace he’s building for me. But the peace that he’s become for me.
I freeze, unable to draw a single breath. “Stop,” I whisper.
He stills immediately. “What?”
“Stop,” I repeat, my voice trembling now. “Stop talking like that.”
“I’m just—”
“Stop,” I cut in, finally looking up at him. My breath hitches.
His gaze softens, something breaking through the control he’s been holding onto. Then he nods slowly.
Still staring at me. Still carrying the weight of my peace in those gleaming eyes. Eyes that bleed out an emotion I dare not name.
That’s it. That’s the thing that does it.
