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Chapter Eighty-Eight: Cold Rooms and Quiet Calls
Last Updated:
2025-08-11 21:35:35
Jhumie_writesThis chapter pulls us back into Killian’s world, I wanted readers to feel the contrast between the warmth of his short lived time with his newfound family and the stark solitude of the safe house.
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The neighborhood was quiet, the sun dipping low behind cracked rooftops and faded fences. The kind of place where hope came to die a slow, gray death. I parked the car a few blocks away and crept forward, eyes sharp, heart steady but burning with cold rage.Silas Hayes’ house sat at the end of a narrow street, a ramshackle relic squeezed between newer, better kept homes. The windows were dust covered and cracked. The paint peeled like dead skin. A rusted gate hung from one hinge. No flowers. No laughter. Just shadows.I studied it from the street. This was the kind of place where promises went to rot. Where secrets got buried under layers of neglect.I stepped closer, boots crunching on broken glass and dry leaves. The door was cracked, just a sliver open, like a wound waiting for me to enter.Inside, the air was thick with dust and stale smoke. The faintest scent of decay clung to the walls. I moved carefully, stepping over torn newspapers, broken chairs, and empty bottles. The silen
His To Ruin Chapter Eighty-Nine: Quiet Shadows
The car’s engine was a low hum beneath the quiet of the street, the soft dusk settling like a shroud over the neat houses lined with trimmed lawns and flowering shrubs. I sat behind the wheel, the leather cool under my fingers, eyes fixed on the modest house across the street, white picket fence, flower boxes under the windows, a small porch swing where a child’s jacket hung limp.Marisol Vega’s home.I had read everything I could find about her. The old files painted a stark, ruthless picture, a woman who once moved in the shadows of Robert’s empire, involved in whispers I couldn’t yet confirm, someone who might have played a part in the erasure of my father’s name. But here, under this softening light, the woman I saw was different.Through the large living room window, I watched her move with easy grace, carrying a toddler in one arm, laughing as she handed a plate of food to another child at the table. Her hair was pulled back in a loose bun, the wrinkles near her eyes softened b
His To Ruin Chapter Eighty-Eight: Cold Rooms and Quiet Calls
The ride from the station to the safehouse was quiet, the kind of quiet that presses against your eardrums until it feels like a weight. I didn’t bother turning on the radio. The city outside the tinted glass was all smudged lights and thin, restless fog. It didn’t matter. My mind wasn’t here.The moment the car stopped, I stepped out, my boots crunching against the gravel drive. The safehouse looked exactly as I’d left it, plain, shadowed, forgettable. The kind of building no one would remember passing. That was the point. I had bought this building in a different name. I punched in the code, pushed the heavy door open, and was met with stale air. The place always smelled like paper and metal, old documents, gun oil, cold steel.Inside, I didn’t take off my coat. I went straight to the desk. The only light came from the desk lamp, a harsh yellow pool that barely reached the corners of the room. My laptop sat there, waiting.I switched it on, the familiar hum filling the air. While i
His To Ruin Chapter Eighty-Seven: Petals With Thorn
The morning came too early.I lay there, eyes still closed, not wanting to leave the one small pocket of safety I’d found, the space between sleep and waking, where the walls around me didn’t exist yet.But the knock shattered it.It wasn’t Victor’s knock. No… he never knock,just walked in always. This knock was softer, hesitant, followed by the rustle of fabric and the creak of the door opening just far enough for someone to slip inside.I pushed myself up, the blanket falling to my lap.A young servant, a girl I’d seen before but never heard speak, came in carrying something that seemed out of place here. A tall, glass vase overflowing with blooms.White roses. Deep crimson peonies. Sprigs of eucalyptus.They looked like they belonged on a wedding table. Or in a lover’s arms.She crossed the room quickly, set the vase on my desk, and without meeting my eyes, left. No explanation. No note. Just the scent, already unfurling into the air, filling every corner of my room.I sat there f
His To Ruin Chapter Eighty-Six: The Warm Table
The house was alive.Not in the restless way of an estate where footsteps echoed like warnings, but alive with the sound of voices, overlapping, tumbling, carrying laughter like the clink of glasses. The scent of roasted meat and herbs hung thick in the air, drawing me toward the long dining table set in the center of the wide room. It wasn’t polished to perfection. There were smudges of fingerprints on the wood, rings from mugs that had sweated in the heat. It was… lived in.I took my seat near the far end, the spot they’d given me as though they were careful not to overwhelm me. Plates and bowls passed hand to hand, no servants here, just people serving each other.“Aunt June, remember the time you tried to make jam and burned the kitchen?” one of the younger cousins teased, a boy with unruly hair and dimples so deep they looked like they’d been carved there on purpose.“I did no such thing,” june said, eyes narrowing even as a smile threatened the corner of her mouth. “It was the s
His To Ruin Chapter Eighty-Five: The Lock Inside My Chest
The door clicked softly behind me, closing out dinner and leaving only the hum of the house settling into evening. I didn’t stay downstairs longer than necessary, and here in my room, I breathed a slow, ragged sigh. I tried not to think about hair I wore or how I’d held my fork. I tried not to think about how Victor had watched me all evening, like I was both prize and puzzle.The silence felt too loud.I told myself it was nothing. Just relief that the meal was over. Relief i am out of that animal gaze. But my fingers trembled as I unbuttoned the cuff of my dress, loosening the fabric I’d chosen. The black dress I deliberately worn to provoke him. I slipped into something looser, plain sleepwear, soft cotton, and slid under the covers, heart still roaring. I stared at the ceiling, waiting for my pulse to slow.It never did.The knock didn’t come.Of course it didn’t.Victor never knocked.My stomach clenched. I sat up in bed, breath caught in my throat. My hand trembled against the
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