GUARD MY RUIN

*Dedication*

For the ones who swore they weren’t into MM

until it was Bram and Renzo.

You lied. And you liked it.

I wrote this for you.

Welcome Home Sinner:)

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RENZO POV

“He’s awake.”

The voice sounded far away like it had to cut through thick water to reach me. My head throbbed, not just with pain, but with pressure. Like my skull was full of gunpowder and someone had already lit the fuse.

My throat was dry. My chest felt heavy. And every inch of my body screamed like I’d been hit by a damn truck.

Everything hurts.

Not the sharp kind of pain you scream from. This was dull, deep, rooted in places pain shouldn’t belong. Like it had settled into my bones and unpacked a suitcase.

I blinked.

The room swam into focus slowly—soft light pouring in through long white curtains, walls a calming shade of cream, a fireplace in the corner I didn’t recognize. Too polished. Too quiet.

Not a hospital. But definitely not home

“Where… where am I?” My voice came out hoarse, barely a whisper.

“Renzo,” my mother’s voice broke as she rushed to my side. Her hand gripped mine tightly, and for the first time in years, I saw fear in her eyes. Real fear. “Baby, you’re okay now.” She whispered..

I tried to sit up. My muscles protested. My chest burned.

“What the hell…”

“You’re at the safehouse,” she said softly. “The estate out in Veneto. We had to move you after—after what happened.

“I feel like I got run over,” I muttered. “What the hell happened last night?”

Then I heard it.

The heavy tread of boots against hardwood.

My father stepped into the room. Jaw locked. Suit immaculate. Like nothing ever rattled him

Dad’s voice cut across the room like a whip. “You happened. You were unconscious for a full day because you don’t know how to think.”

His words hit harder than the pain in my ribs.

I looked him over. “Wow. You made time in your busy schedule of being a cold bastard.”

He ignored me. “You were careless. You let your guard down. That nearly got you killed.”

“Marc,” Mom said gently, like she always did when trying to soften him. “Please.”

“Don’t ‘please’ me, Patricia,” he snapped. “Maybe if you’d stopped coddling him, he wouldn’t be a walking disaster.”

“Disaster?” I rasped. “I nearly died.”

She hesitated before answering. “You were poisoned. And shot.”

The room went silent.

Just those two words.

Poisoned. Shot.

And then I remembered. The party. The drink. The sound of glass breaking. Screams. Blood.

My birthday.

My hands clenched the thin blanket. “They tried to kill me on my goddamn birthday?”

No one answered.

“I almost die on my fucking birthday.”

“You were getting drunk and acting like the world revolved around you.”

“Well, it kind of does,” I shot back. “Unless you’ve got a secret second son stashed away?”

His hand slammed against the doorframe. “Don’t test me, Renzo.”

I clenched my jaw. “Then don’t talk to me like I planned to get shot.

Dad scoffed, turning to the doctor. “Do your job. Check him out.”

She stepped forward-dark hair tucked neatly under her cap, cool professionalism on her face. Her eyes were kind. Tired. Like she’d been here all night.

She checked my vitals in silence, her fingers cold against my skin.

I was scared. So I deflected. Like I always did.

“You’ve got great tits, doc,” I muttered.

She froze.

“What did you just—?”

“Feisty. I like it.” I gave her a crooked smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “You wanna fuck me so I can get better?” She didn’t reply and I smirked

Then I grabbed her boobs squeezing it hard..

She yelped, jerking away. “Are you insane?”

“Renzo!” my father snapped. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

I didn’t answer. Just leaned back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling.

Because if I didn’t act out, I’d have to face what was actually happening.

I could’ve died. No warning. No goodbye. Just lights out.

And all they were doing was arguing over whose fault it was.

“ He’s alright,” the doctor said stiffly. “He needs rest. And to take his medication in two hours.”

The door opened. The air shifted.

And in walked silence wrapped in muscle.

The man that entered didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. He moved like a soldier and looked like a warning. Calm. Precise. Built like a statue you’d find guarding a cursed tomb—one you shouldn’t touch unless you were ready to bleed.

The gray shirt he wore clung to his body, highlighting every inch of hard muscle and restrained power. His eyes—icy blue—cut through the room like he didn’t give a damn about anyone in it.

Until they landed on me.

He didn’t look impressed.

“Bram, you’re here,” Dad said.

My stomach twisted. Please don’t tell me this is a fucking therapist. I don’t have a mental issue.

“Renzo,” he turned toward me, “this is Bram Hale. Your new bodyguard.”

I blinked. “Body—what?”

Mom stepped in quickly. “Honey, it’s just until we figure out who—who did this. Someone obviously wants your dead and we can’t take any chances.”

“I don’t need a babysitter mom,” I snapped, trying to swing my legs off the bed. Pain shot through me. “I can take care of myself.”

“You’ll do as I say,” Dad snapped. “Or I’ll cut you off. All of it. No money. No freedom. Nothing.”

Of course. That’s what this was about. Control.

“Right,” I muttered. “Wouldn’t want your only heir getting killed before he can carry on the glorious fucking family name and the mafia title.”

He was on me in a second. His hand struck my cheek, the sound sharp, the pain sharper. Mom gasped. The doctor turned away.

“Marc”Mom squealed glaring at him.

“Why the fuck did you hit him?” She asked furiously,

Bram didn’t flinch.

Just watched. Cold and silent.

“You’ll stay here,” Dad said low. “You’ll cooperate. Bram stays with you until I say otherwise. Try anything, and you’ll have nothing left to have.”

Then he turned and left.

Mom gave me a lingering look part heartbreak, part helplessness then followed after him.

“I’ll be back to check on you” the doctor smile sympathetically and I winked at her before she leaves.

And just like that, I was alone.

Except for him.

Bram.

He stood at the door like a sentry, arms crossed, jaw tight.

I looked up at him, forcing a half-smirk to my face. “So… you the strong silent type or just socially awkward?”

Nothing.

No reaction.

I leaned back against the pillows.

“Reject the job,” I said firmly. “While you still can.”