Epilogue
DAMIEN
T he car idles outside Willow’s house, the engine humming softly in the cool night air. Vincent steps out first, his sharp suit catching the glow of the porch light as he strides toward the house with purpose. Cast follows a beat later, moving slower, adjusting his cuffs like we’re heading into a boardroom instead of prom night.
“Just don’t piss her off tonight, Damien. You know how she gets,” Vincent says, already halfway up the walkway, his voice dripping with amusement.
I shoot him a glare. “Shut up, Vincent.” My tone is sharper than I intend, but the knot in my chest won’t loosen, and his commentary isn’t helping.
He raises his hands in mock surrender, smirking as if this is all a joke. “Relax. I’m just saying. Don’t shoot the messenger.”
Cast catches up, his expression as casual as ever. “Chill. Damien’s got this,” he says, leaning lazily against the porch railing. He tilts his head toward the car with a smirk. “But for the record, I’m calling dibs on the back seat next to her.”
I glare at him too, but he just grins, unfazed. Vincent chuckles under his breath, shaking his head, and for a fleeting second, their antics almost pull me out of my nerves. Almost.
I stand at the front door, my hand hovering just a second too long before knocking. My tux feels tight, constricting, but it’s not the suit—it’s the anticipation. Tonight is supposed to be the night. Prom. The night I finally get to tell Willow I see her, that I want her.
I knock, twice, harder this time. The door creaks open, and I freeze when I see him. Mr. Carter. His face is unreadable, but his eyes are colder than usual, a strange tension hanging in the air.
“Hey, Mr. Carter,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m here to pick up Willow. We’re heading to prom.”
He doesn’t move at first. Doesn’t speak. I shift from one foot to the other, already feeling the unease creep up my spine. Something doesn’t feel right. The silence drags on too long.
Then he speaks, and the words slam into me like a freight train.
“She’s gone.”
My chest tightens, my stomach drops. “What do you mean, gone?”
Mr. Carter steps aside, a grim look in his eyes. “She’s not here. Left.”
Left? Willow wouldn’t leave without saying anything, not tonight. We were supposed to be together, we’d made plans. She wouldn’t just disappear. I glance behind him, like I might catch a glimpse of her running back in from the yard or the kitchen. But there’s nothing.
“Where is she?” My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to, my hands clenching at my sides. “What do you mean, she left?”
Mr. Carter shrugs, his expression locked in a hard line. “She didn’t tell me. She’s gone, Damien.”
I can’t process it. My brain stalls, scrambling for something that makes sense, but nothing does. Willow wouldn’t do this. Not without a word, not on a night like this.
“Where’s Ricardo?” I sneer.
“I sent him away,” Mr.Carter shrugs.
“Where?” Cast pipes up.
“Away from here,” he snaps. His hand going to close the door. “Now if you excuse me.”
“Mr.Carter.” I growl, but he swiftly slams the door in my face, and I lean my head against it. Willow’s gone, she just disappeared.
“I’m calling Ricardo,” Cast growls. After a moment, he slams his cartel phone into the concrete.
“No answer?” Vincent says mindlessly.
“I’m going to have his fucking head.” Cast says, his hand moving to his private phone in his other pocket.
Vincent shifts beside me, his eyes darting over to Cast, but neither of them can keep the anger from showing in their eyes. I can see and feel their unease. They know as well as I this isn’t right, something happened.
I step back, my thoughts racing, trying to piece this together, but it’s like the world’s spinning faster than I can catch up. Willow wouldn’t just leave. Not without telling me.
“Damien?” Vincent’s voice cuts through the fog, a note of concern breaking through.
I don’t even hear him at first. I’m already turning on my heel, heading for the car. I’m going to find her. That’s all I know.
Cast falls in step next to me, Vincent just behind. We don’t speak—there’s no need. I can feel the weight of their presence, the unspoken understanding that something’s wrong, something’s off. And it’s not just Willow who’s gone. This whole damn night feels wrong.
I climb into the car, gripping the door like I can hold onto something real. “She’s out there,” I say, voice low. “And I’m going to find her.”
Cast doesn’t say anything, but I see the way his jaw tightens in the rearview mirror, the way Vincent’s hand grips the steering wheel in front of him.
This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.
Thank you for reading my book, please leave me a review and share, as a new independent author your support means the world to me.
The next Installment of The Lords of Ruin will be available soon so follow me on lokepub so you don’t miss a thing.
Thank you for reading Lords of Ruin:OWNED more on them coming soon…
Heat up with Josie and her super hot NFL hockey star whose only game now is earning her with every puck
Here is a taste of a their angsty, steamy ride to their to a family neither saw coming- Triplets!.