33. Willow
33
WILLOW
The wedding dress gleams under the vanity lights, an intricate design of flowers embedded at the waist of this perfect satin masterpiece. It’s beautiful, expensive, flawless—just like this wedding is supposed to be. Just like I am supposed to be.
Vincent took care of everything. We are getting married in an exclusive indoor Japanese garden.
It’s a dreamscape—an ethereal blend of nature and luxury, where the air is thick with the soft scent of cherry blossoms. Delicate petals float in the koi pond that winds its way through the room, lanterns casting a warm golden glow over the stone pathways. A towering sakura tree stands at the center, its branches stretching toward the ceiling, dusted in pink like something out of a fairytale.
Everything feels like a fairytale except for me. I feel out of place and unsteady, like I don’t belong here.
“Absolutely not, Rudy. I’m walking her down the aisle,” Jasmine’s sharp voice cuts through my thoughts.
I blink, looking up at her and Rudy, who are now facing off like two boxers in the ring.
Rudy scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. “Uh, no. I’m her best guy friend. It’s only fair.”
“She doesn’t need a ‘best guy friend.’ She needs the OG, the ride-or-die, me ,” Jasmine shoots back, her blue eyes flashing.
“Oh, so suddenly I don’t count?”
Their bickering should be comforting. Normal. But today, it barely registers. My heart is hammering too hard in my chest, my body too hot under layers of silk..
This should be the happiest day of my life. Everyone says so. Everyone expects it to be. But the more I sit here, staring at my own reflection, the more I realize that what I’m feeling isn’t excitement. It isn’t even nerves.
It’s fear.
Because I’m marrying one man when my heart belongs to three.
I exhale shakily, my fingers tightening around the armrest. It’s Cast’s face that floods my mind first, the way his green eyes darken when he looks at me, the way his voice drops when he whispers in Spanish, turning my name into something sinful. The way he owns every room he steps into like he was born to rule it.
Then Damien—cold, distant, unreadable. Except with me. With me, he unravels, his hands rough and possessive, his touch a brand hotter than any ring ever could be. He hates needing me. Hates that I’ve wedged myself into the cracks of his armor. But I have, and now neither of us can change it.
I want them. I need them.
And I’m about to walk down the aisle to someone else.
I can’t breathe.
Panic rises, sharp and sudden, clawing at my throat. My vision swims, my pulse pounding so loud it drowns out Jasmine and Rudy’s argument. I push out of my chair, mumbling something about needing air.
Neither of them notices as I slip out the door, my dress rustling against the marble floors.
I don’t know where I’m going. I just know I need to go .
My feet move on instinct, leading me down the hall, past guests that are visiting the gardens, past the life I’m supposed to be stepping into. I don’t stop until I find the janitor’s closet. It’s dark, cramped, the air thick with the scent of cleaning supplies, but it’s private . It’s safe.
My hands tremble as I dig my phone out of the silk pouch hanging from my wrist. Cast’s name stares back at me.
I shouldn’t call.
I should turn around, walk back to my dressing room, and play the part of the perfect bride.
Instead, I press dial.
The phone rings once.
Twice.
I press the back of my hand against my lips, my breath uneven as my pulse hammers through me. Maybe he won’t pick up. Maybe this is a mistake.
Then, on the third ring?—
“Willow.”
His voice is low, rough, like he wasn’t expecting to hear from me but knew, somehow, that I would call.
I exhale shakily, pressing my forehead against the wall. “Cast.”
There’s silence on the other end, heavy and charged. He doesn’t ask why I’m calling. Doesn’t ask how I am. He doesn’t need to. He already knows.
“You shouldn’t be calling me, mi amor. ”
I let out a soft, broken laugh. “I know.”
More silence. I hear the sound of him exhaling, the faint clink of glass—he’s drinking. Of course he is.
“Say it,” he murmurs.
My throat tightens. “Say what?”
“You didn’t call me for no reason.” His voice dips lower, rougher. “Say what’s on your mind, corazón. ”
I squeeze my eyes shut, my fingers tightening around the phone. “I love you.”
A sharp inhale. A barely there sound, but I catch it. My heart clenches.
“I love you,” I say again, my voice firmer this time. “I love you, and I don’t know how to stand up there and pretend like I don’t. Like I’m not breaking my own heart by doing this.”
He lets out a slow exhale, like my words are a knife dragging across his skin.
“Willow,” he says softly. “You don’t belong to me.”
My stomach twists. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s the truth.” He pauses, then his voice drops, rough and edged dark, “You’re too good for me.”
I laugh, but it’s humorless, hollow. “That’s a lie.”
His silence tells me he agrees.
Then, after a long pause, he says, “Do you know what I would have done if you were mine?”
I shiver at the way his voice dips, my fingers tightening around the phone. “Tell me.”
“I would’ve burned down the whole fucking city to get to you,” he murmurs. “Vincent wouldn’t be breathing. I wouldn’t have let it get this far. I would have killed my best friend, my brother for you, Willow.”
A shudder rolls through me. It should scare me, the quiet violence in his words. But it doesn’t. Because I believe him.
Because part of me wants that. Wants to be his. Wants him to take me away from all of this and keep me locked in his world, where he’d kill and destroy and ruin anything that tried to keep us apart.
I swallow hard. “Cast…”
“Where are you?” he asks suddenly, his voice sharper now, all business. “Tell me where you are, and I’ll come get you.”
I suck in a breath. My hands are shaking. My thoughts are spinning.
“It’s my wedding day.”
Silence. Then a slow, bitter chuckle. “I know.”
Of course he knows.
“I can’t—” My voice cracks. “I can’t do this, Cast. I don’t know what to do.”
There’s another pause, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer.
“Yes, you do.”
I shake my head even though he can’t see me. “No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do, mi amor. ” His voice is raw now, like it’s taking everything in him to say this. “You’ve always known. You just have to be brave enough to listen to your heart.”
Tears blur my vision. My heart slams against my ribs.
I press my lips together, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. My pulse is a frantic rhythm, a war drum pounding beneath my skin.
“Then come get me.” My voice is barely a whisper, but I know he hears me. He always hears me.
Cast exhales, slow and measured, like he’s forcing himself to stay in control. “I can’t.”
My breath hitches. “Why not?”
There’s a pause, and then?—
“I’m in Fuji. ”
The words land like a punch to the chest. I lean back against the door, gripping my phone so tightly my knuckles ache.
“Fuji?” I echo, my voice shaking. “As in Japan ?”
A low chuckle rumbles through the speaker, but there’s no real humor in it. “That’s the one, corazón. I didn’t want to be anywhere near you on your wedding day. I wanted you to make the decision yourself.”
I close my eyes, frustration and desperation tangling together inside me. “You are thirteen hours away.”
“I know.” His voice is quiet, edged with something bitter. “If I wasn’t, do you really think you’d still be hiding somewhere, wondering what to do?”
“How do you know I am hiding?” I whisper.
“Because I know you. You are hiding, hoping I will be driving to you right now to tell you no.”
My throat tightens. Because he’s right. If Cast were anywhere near me, I wouldn’t still be here. He would’ve had me in his arms before I even had the chance to call.
The thought makes my head spin.
I swallow hard. “And Damien? Where do I hope Damien is, since you know me so well?”
Cast lets out a slow exhale.“He’s ten minutes down the road.”
My stomach flips violently. I blink, my breath catching in my throat. “He’s what ?”
“He’s waiting for you.” His voice is monotone as he speaks. “Like he always has been.”
My fingers tremble around the phone. Damien—cold, ruthless Damien—is here . Not halfway across the world. Not bound by an ocean and a twelve-hour time difference. Damien is right there ready to steal me away.
“He’s waiting,” I repeat, barely able to form the words.
“Yes, mi amor. ” Cast’s voice is quiet now, resigned. Like he already knows what I’m going to do before I do. Like he’s made peace with it.
I squeeze my eyes shut. My chest is tight, my heart hammering so fast I feel like I might pass out. My whole body feels weightless, untethered, like I’m on the edge of something irreversible.
“So if I call—” My voice cracks.
“He will be right there.”
Damien. Ten minutes away. So close I could reach out and touch him if I wanted. If I chose to.
I let out a shaky exhale. “I don’t know what to do, Cast.”
Silence. Then, his voice dips lower. Rougher. “Do you love him?”
I freeze. “Who?”
“Vincent,” he bites out, and I can hear the tension in his voice, the barely contained fury, the raw, unfiltered emotion clawing its way out of him.
I swallow hard. “Yes.”
There’s a sharp inhale. A slow exhale. I imagine the whites of his knuckles as he grips the phone, the muscle ticking in his jaw.
“Then you can’t leave him at the altar, Carina. ” His voice softens, but the weight of his words feels heavier. Final. “You will break his heart.”
My throat tightens. “Cast?—”
“No.” His voice is a razor’s edge, cutting straight through me. “You made your bed. Now lie in it.”
Tears burn my eyes. “I love you, too. I can’t do this if marrying him breaks your heart, too.”
“You can only marry one person.”
I shake my head even though he can’t see me, my hands trembling around the phone. “That doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”
A humorless chuckle. It’s low, rough, almost bitter. “I know.”
I can barely breathe. “So what do I do?”
Cast is silent for a moment, then he sighs, and there’s something in his voice that sounds like defeat. Like surrender. “Go be Mrs. Beaumont. ” A sharp, painful crack splits through my chest. “Because you can never be Mrs. Castillo. ”
I let out a soft, broken sound, but before I can say anything else, the line goes dead. The pain in my chest burns like a brand. I feel hollow, lost, like I’m standing on the edge of something I can’t control.
A knock at the door makes me jump.
“Willow?” Jasmine’s voice is soft but firm, like she’s been waiting for me to come out. “I know you’re in there.”
I don’t answer.
Another knock. This time, she’s more insistent. “Willow, come on. You can’t stay in there forever.”
I press the heels of my hands to my eyes, willing myself not to cry. My throat is tight, my heart so full of conflicting emotions I can barely breathe.
“I don’t want to talk right now,” I finally manage to say, my voice barely a whisper.
“Too bad,” Jasmine’s voice comes through, teasing but with a note of concern. “Because I’m coming in.”
The door creaks open, and there she is, standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest. She raises an eyebrow at me, her eyes sharp, but there’s a softness to them now. “What the hell are you doing in here?”
I don’t look at her. I can’t. My hands are shaking. I can’t even look at the phone in my hand anymore.
“I just... needed a minute,” I mumble.
“Yeah? I can tell.” Jasmine steps closer, her gaze flicking down to the phone still clutched in my hand. “So, you talked to him?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
She exhales, her gaze unreadable. “And?”
I swallow hard, my lips trembling. “He told me to marry Vincent.”
Jasmine’s expression softens, but there’s still a fire behind her eyes. She kneels down in front of me, looking me dead in the eyes. “Then you need to marry Vincent, Willow.”
I shake my head, the words barely making it past my lips. “But I love Cast and Damien, too.”
Jasmine tilts her head, her voice quiet now but insistent. “I know you do. But love isn’t everything, not when it’s going to destroy what you have with Vincent.”
I can feel the tears threatening to spill. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You’re going to do what’s right,” Jasmine says, her tone suddenly sharp with resolve. “Vincent’s always been there for you, Willow . He’s not just the guy who happens to be in your life right now. He’s the guy who’s never given up on you. Not once.”
I close my eyes, the words stabbing into me. I’ve always known this. I’ve always known Vincent was there, waiting, fighting for me. But Cast… Cast had always felt like the pull of something darker, something forbidden.
“Do you love him?” Jasmine’s voice cuts through the silence.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Then you can’t leave him at the altar.” Jasmine’s voice is fierce now, and I feel it in every word. “You can’t betray him like that. You owe him everything you have, Willow. If you love him, really love him, you can’t do this to him. You’ll break him. You’ll break both of you.”
I shudder, the weight of her words pressing down on me. I can’t break Vincent’s heart. I can’t .
“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” I say softly.
Jasmine stands up, holding her hand out for me. “Then don’t. Marry Vincent. You’re meant to be with him, Willow. You’ve been through too much together.”
I feel like I’m drowning, my chest tight, my mind racing. Cast’s voice is still in my head, haunting me.
But Jasmine’s right.
I made my choice the moment I started this.
I take her hand, letting her pull me to my feet. My legs feel like jelly, my heart heavy, but Jasmine’s unwavering presence gives me just enough strength to stand.
She smiles faintly. “You’ve got a wedding to get to.”
I don’t know how I manage to get ready, but the next thing I know, Jasmine is checking the final touches on my dress, making sure every strand of my hair is in place. The shimmer of the gown, the delicate satin, it all feels so surreal. The weight of everything, of the people around me, of the vows I’m about to take, feels like a fog, something I’m stumbling through but not fully aware of.
“Are you ready?” Jasmine asks, a small but determined smile on her face.
I can barely nod, my throat dry. I’m not sure I’m ready for any of this, but here I am. Walking down the aisle.
Rudy stands by my side, his hand resting lightly on my arm. “You look beautiful,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. I force a smile, though it’s a hollow one, and look back at Jasmine, at Rudy—my two best friends, the ones who have stood by me even when I didn’t deserve it.
They both step beside me, and together we make our way to the grand entrance.
The doors swing open, the light blinding at first, and the smiling faces of Jasmine and her guys, but I don’t see them, though. Not really. Not when my eyes are already searching for him.
I spot Vincent standing at the altar, his broad frame stiff with anticipation, his eyes locked on me. He mouths the word princess and the butterflies in my stomach erupt in chaotic flutters. The heat in my chest rises—like I’m suffocating, and yet... I feel alive in a way I’ve never known. I’m walking toward him. This is what I’ve been waiting for.
But then something shifts. My chest tightens, sharp and unforgiving, like a vise closing in. My breath hitches, and the world starts to tilt around me.
I gasp for air, clutching at my chest as the pain spirals through me.
No, not now.
My legs begin to feel unsteady, my vision blurring, the ground beneath me swaying like I’m caught in the current of an endless wave.
“Willow?”
Vincent’s voice breaks through the haze. He’s shouting my name now, panic rising in his tone. But it’s too much. The pressure, the emotion, the weight of everything crashing down on me all at once—it’s too much.
I try to take another step, but my body betrays me. My knees buckle, my breath seizes, and the world goes dark.
I hear Vincent’s voice again, more desperate this time. “Willow!”
But it’s the last thing I hear before everything fades into silence.
Thank you for reading the third installment of Lords of Ruin.
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