Page 6 of Ruin
"Welcome home, little wolf," he says.
And the thing is—standing in Hell, it actually feels like home.
1
Selene
It's been forty-seven days since I last saw Cassius.
I count them the way some people count prayers.
Every single one, marked by the weight of these diamonds against my throat .My fingers rise to the necklace, tracing the cool jewels once, sealing the vow stitched into my skin.
The promise didn’t pull me back here tonight. I came willingly. Eager. I’m ready.
I’ve been ready.
The car pulls up to Purgatory, and the bass hits me through the door before I even open it.
Deep, throbbing, a pulse that syncs with mine and drags something primal out of the dark place I've been feeding for twelve months.
I step out, my Louboutins clipping against the pavement, red soles like walking on blood.
The bouncer at the private entrance is new.
Big. Neck like a fire hydrant.
He steps forward, one hand raised, but I don't slow down.
"Ma'am, this entrance is?—"
I tilt my chin up.
The collar catches the light.
Diamonds and white gold, custom-made, worth more than this man's annual salary.
His eyes drop to it, and whatever he was about to say dies in his throat.
He steps aside.
Good.
Inside, Purgatory hasn't changed.
Caged dancers twisting overhead in amber light. Black marble bar. Top-shelf liquor and clientele who wear their sins like designer labels.
The music is loud enough to feel in your teeth, and the air tastes like expensive perfume and bad decisions.
A woman stands at the far end of the bar, dark hair cut sharp at the jaw, watching the room with the kind of attention that looks casual until you notice her eyes never stop moving.
She clocks me the moment I walk in, holds my gaze for one beat longer than a stranger should, then looks away.
I've changed, though.
The girl who stumbled into this place a year ago—broken, bleeding, begging the darkness to swallow her—she's dead.
I killed her myself.
