Boy of Ruin - K.V. Rose Page 0,57

do simple things like grocery shopping without him, it still felt like…he cared.

And I know he loves me, in his own way.

But his night terrors, those delusions during the day, and all the coke he can’t stop doing…that was why I ran.

That, and the 6, fucking taking me. Ella. From our. Fucking. House.

I don’t think about it. It’s what I’m good at. Avoiding my problems. And right now, with my stomach growling under J’s hand, the only problem I want to think about is stuffing my goddamn face.

But when I wake up, someone gently shaking me, it seems like Jeremiah Rain, as always, had other fucking plans.

I blink my eyes open, wondering how it got so dark.

It feels like I’ve only slept a minute, but when I glance at the clock on the center console, it’s nearly nine at night.

And it is night.

The sun had just been setting when I closed my eyes, Jeremiah’s warm hand over my belly.

Now, his hand shifted to my shoulder, nudging me softly, it’s nothing but blackness surrounding his car.

I reach beside me, press the button to raise my seat as I yawn, turning my head to look at my brother, my eyes bleary with sleep as I run a fist over them.

“Where are we?” I ask, my voice groggy. I can’t see shit beyond the tinted windows, only the light from the dashboard and the electronic console illuminating Jeremiah’s pale green eyes, his hand still on my shoulder, thumb stroking over my skin.

My body tingles, but I shove that feeling aside, turn to glance behind me.

See Nicolas leaned forward in the middle seat, elbows on his bent knees as his dark eyes connect with mine.

He’s gripping his phone in one hand, and there’s a crease between his brow.

As I stifle another yawn, I turn back to look at Jeremiah, foreboding unfurling within me. “What…what’s going on?” I ask, clearing my throat.

Jeremiah swallows, glances at his hand on my shoulder.

Then he drops his hand to the gear shift, his knuckles blanching, he’s gripping it so hard.

What the fuck?

I turn to look out the window again.

Blinking, it seems like we’re pulled over on the side of the road.

I whip my head back around to face my brother. “What the fuck are we—”

“There’s something you need to know, baby.” Jeremiah’s words are tender. Soft.

It makes my blood run cold. My heart hammer in my chest. “What’s going on?” I reach for the door handle, but don’t try to open it. I’m feeling closed in, though. Anxious. I fall asleep as we’re on our way to dinner, now we’re pulled over on the side of the fucking road, and both Jeremiah and Nicolas are staring at me as if their best friend died.

Died…

My throat closes up, one hand going to it as I dig my nails into my skin. Did Lucifer…is he…

“Oh my god.” My words come out as a rasp. I dart my gaze to Nicolas, my pulse racing. “Oh my god!” My voice grows more high-pitched. I have to get out of this car. I yank on the handle, but it doesn’t open.

The doors are fucking locked.

The doors are fucking locked.

I Don’t Belong Here by I Prevail is playing softly through the speakers of the car and my heart is breaking as it does.

I unbuckle my seatbelt, turn away from Jeremiah and flip the lock on the door, clawing at the handle, but before I can get the door open, Jeremiah’s strong fingers curl around my bicep, hard enough to bruise as he yanks me back in.

“What, exactly, do you think is happening right now, baby?” he asks me quietly, his words edged with something cold.

My hands start to tremble, and I ball them into fists. See Jeremiah’s cold gaze locked on mine.

I swallow, my mouth dry.

“Did something…did something happen to him?”

Jeremiah’s grip tightens on my arm and I wince, digging my own nails into the palm of my hands.

“To who?” he presses me, that coldness in his voice causing a chill to slide down my spine.

“L-Lucifer,” I manage to say, choking on my husband’s name. I dart my gaze to Nicolas, but I can read nothing in his expression. He’s still just staring at me.

Just like Jeremiah.

My heart sinks.

My stomach knots up.

I think I’m going to be sick. “What happened?” I gasp out, pleading with him. “What the fuck are we doing here? What the fuck—”

Jeremiah reaches across the center console, his hand coming to the back of my neck as he leans close to

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