Lessons in Ruin

Prologue

Lia

“Lia, wake up.”

Leo grips my arms and shakes me awake.

His fingers press to my lips. “Don’t say a word. Don’t ask questions right now. I need you to follow my lead. Got me?”

Leo is my calm and collected twin.

His uncharacteristically tight expression worries me. His dark-brown brows draw together, and his blue-green eyes gloss with fear.

Unsure what to do or say, I nod and pull the sheet off my body. I reach for the black hoodie on the dresser and slip it on. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pull on my black-and-white Converse, lacing them quickly as I wait for further instruction.

“I want you to climb out your window quietly.”

“What? Why?”

Is he crazy?

His finger presses to his lips in a silent plea.

This is Leo.

My brother.

My protector.

Questioning him isn’t an option.

He wouldn’t have woken me if something serious wasn’t happening. I want to know what’s wrong, but I swallow my curiosity and listen.

Walking to my window, I slowly open it, careful not to make a sound. We live in a two-story house in San Diego.

This isn’t the first time I’ve snuck out of my room. Leo and I did it constantly growing up—one of the many inevitable outcomes of having the father we have.

The crisp wind rustles my hair, sending strands into my face. I swipe them away as I grip the windowsill for support and slide onto the narrow ledge. Carefully, I angle myself toward the next window.

I lose my footing and drop, landing hard on the grass. I brush dirt from my hands and rush to the side of the house. Hidden behind a tree, I scan the yard for movement as I wait for Leo.

Worst-case scenarios line up in my head. This has Joaquin and Draven written all over it.

Joaquin may be our biological father, but he lost the right to that title years ago. The man who was supposed to protect us is the reason we learned to hide.

Our older brother, Draven, is his favorite—for reasons I’ll never understand. He’s four years older than Leo and me.

A leaf crunches nearby.

I clap a hand over my racing heart as Leo pops out in front of me. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Keep your voice down,” he says sharply.

“Leo, what is happening right now?”

“Joaquin and Draven are back from their business trip early, and they brought company.”

Sheer panic races through me. “They’re here? They weren’t supposed to return from Sacramento for days.”

“Yes. I don’t know why, but it’s not safe. Not with the men I saw with him. Go to our secret spot and wait for me. I’m heading back in to check on Mom.”

Leo’s terrified expression sinks into my gut. His eyes are strained, his forehead creased. Being alone with them has never ended well for us. Joaquin’s aggression is unpredictable.

“I don’t want you going by yourself. I should come with you.”

“Please hide. I won’t be long. Once I know Mom’s alright, I’ll meet you at our hideout.”

This is what it’s like having Joaquin as a father. Living in constant fear. Tense muscles. Always looking over my shoulder. Too scared to walk through my own house.

The urge to argue is strong, but I clamp my lips shut. We’ve had this fight too many times to count. Leo has protected me for as long as I can remember, and I wish he’d let me do the same for him.

I blow out a breath. “Fine.”

He pulls me into a quick hug. “I’ll be there soon.”

The gut-wrenching dread returns as I start down the street toward La Cove, tucked a few blocks from home.

The house belongs to Joaquin, but this place is ours.

Darkness cloaks me as I wrap my arms around myself. My feet hit the sand, kicking it up behind me. The salty wind picks up, leaving a damp chill on my skin.

The stars are barely visible, swallowed by thick clouds. The moon is hidden, plunging everything into darkness.

A loud boom splits the night, and the ground trembles beneath me. The once-muted sky erupts in bright red flames. I whip around and sprint toward the house—one foot in front of the other, straight for the fire.

A harsh breath tears out of me as I force myself faster, my lungs screaming.

Leo told me to work out more.

I should have listened.

Our house comes into view, the door wide open. I sprint through, feet skidding across the hardwood as my eyes lock onto the scene ahead.

Mom is on the ground, knees pressed into the floor, arms bound behind her. Her dark-brown eyes are red and swollen. Her lower lip is cracked and bleeding, and her beautiful oval face is puffy and bruised, swelling from fresh blows.

Deep rage simmers inside me.

The fireplace crackles. The soft flicker of embers is the only light in the house.

“Lia, watch out!” she screams. Pain rips through my scalp. A hand twists into my hair, yanking me back.

A scream tears out as I kick and fight.

“Let go of my daughter!” Mom thrashes against her restraints.

My frantic kicks meet only air. My protests choke into dry silence.

Smoke fills my lungs, burning the back of my throat. A forearm clamps around my windpipe, forcing a ragged cough from my chest.

I wrench my head sideways, desperate to see who’s holding me.

Cropped blonde hair. A jagged scar across his cheek. That familiar, menacing glare—identical to Joaquin’s.

“Let go of me!” I shout, pressing my heels to the floor, fighting to break free.

Cold metal presses against my skull.

Click.

Black eyes, darker than the sky, lock onto mine. “Stay still,” Draven growls.

The stench of fresh cigar smoke invades my nose.

His signature scent. Same as Joaquin’s.

Cigars and spicy cologne.

His thick, meaty hand clamps over my mouth, stifling my cries. I drive my heel into his knee, but it does nothing.

“Fucking bitch,” he snarls. “I’ll pull this trigger if you move.”

Mom looks at me, tears in her eyes. “Listen to him, Lia.”

Terror freezes my limbs.

This isn’t good. I didn’t take a pill today.

Now isn’t the time. She needs me.

“Breathe in and out for me, honey,” Mom coaxes.

The man who’s almost entirely responsible for my panic attacks saunters in, a scornful look twisting his face. “You should’ve stayed at your cute little hideout,” Joaquin spits.

“Leo!”

Where is he?

“Shut up!” Draven snaps, yanking my hair again.

Heavy footsteps echo across the floorboards. A tall, brawny man enters the living room, arms locked around Leo, dragging him forward and forcing him to his knees.

“Don’t touch him!”

“Don’t speak unless spoken to, girl,” Joaquin sneers.

His hand connects with my cheek. Pain stings immediately. My eyes fill with hot, outraged tears.

“Are you ready, sir?” the man restraining Leo asks. “The fire’s spreading.”

“Finish it, Felix,” Joaquin orders.

Felix releases Leo and throws him at Joaquin before storming toward Mom. He wraps his hands around her neck and squeezes.

Her gasps tear straight through my soul.

No. No, no, no.

Scrambling up, I lunge toward him, but Draven intercepts me. He wrenches my arms behind my back, driving me face down. The grit of the ground presses against my cheekbone.

Come on, Lia. Get up. You have to fight.

I press my hands to the floor, but he slams his foot down on my spine, grinding me into the hardwood.

Leo fights against Joaquin, but he holds him down with nothing more than a stare.

My eyes lock with Mom’s.

“I love you," she whispers.

Please, no.

Felix pulls out a blade.

Slice.

Crimson spills—too fast, too much.

It stains the floor.

He drops her lifeless body with a sickening thud, then wipes the blade clean on his shirt.

“Light this place up, and let’s get the fuck out of here,” Draven orders.

That’s the last thing I hear before everything goes black.

My eyes flutter open, pain pulsing deep in my skull. A relentless throb radiates behind my forehead. I lift a hand to my scalp, combing through tangled strands—

Ouch.

My fingers find a massive lump.

The air reeks of worn leather.

Taking in my surroundings, my mind scrambles to catch up.

Red, familiar torn seats. I’m in the back of Leo’s 1970s pickup.

Up front, his hands are clenched tightly around the steering wheel, knuckles white.

“Leo?” I croak.

His glassy eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror.

Everything comes back.

“Leo…”

He stares forward, jaw set.

“Leo?”

“What?” he snaps, yanking the truck onto the shoulder.

“She’s… gone?”

“After you were knocked out, they set the rest of the house on fire. They thought I was unconscious. I wasn’t. I saw the whole fucking thing. When they left, Joaquin’s telekinetic hold on me broke. I tried to heal her, but she was already gone.”

A deep, gut-wrenching pain claws at my throat, closing like a vice. Sobs quake through my body.

Leo jumps out of the driver’s seat and pulls me from the truck, wrapping his arms around me. “I know, Lia. I know,” he chokes out.

“Why?” I ask through muffled sobs. “Why did they do this? Why now?”

He stiffens and pulls away. “There’s a lot you don’t know. But I have a plan. I’ll explain everything once we’re safe.”

Safe?

Will we ever feel safe again?

“My pills… everything I need was in that house.”

“We’ll stop by the pharmacy first thing in the morning. We’ll get your meds, stock up on supplies, and buy whatever we need. Right now, the only thing that matters is getting as far from here as possible.”

We climb back into the truck, leaving behind the ashes of our former life, fugitives of our own blood.