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Chapter One Hundred and Fourteen: Orders in Blood
Last Updated:
2025-09-05 19:37:44
Jhumie_writesThe contrast is deliberate: Victor rages blindly, Robert seethes in silence, but both are dangerous in their own way. For the first time, Robert feels that control is slipping from his grasp, and that makes him even more ruthless. This is the true beginning of the Wolfe family war, with Ivy at the center. Brace yourself, because the cracks inside the Wolfe empire are now spreading, and from this point forward, no one in the mansion is safe.
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His To Ruin Chapter One Hundred and Sixteen: His to ruin
The burner phone buzzed against the table.A sharp, vibrating sound that cut through the silence of the safehouse like a blade.Ivy was asleep again. it was as if she had not had any good sleep in months, her head pressed against my chest, her hand curled over my heart as if she could anchor me there. I’d spent hours listening to her breathing, memorizing the rhythm. For the first time in years, I felt something close to peace.And then that damned phone lit up.Unknown number.But I knew.I stared at it, jaw locked, blood turning molten in my veins. I should’ve thrown it into the fire the second I brought Ivy here, but part of me had been waiting for this. Expecting it.The Wolfe don’t let go. Not without blood.The phone buzzed again.Ivy stirred, whispering my name. I pressed a kiss to her hair, forcing calm I didn’t feel.“Go back to sleep,” I said, my voice a gravelled lie.Her lashes fluttered, but she didn’t push. She trusted me. And that was the cruelest part.Because when I s
His To Ruin Chapter One Hundred and Fifteen: No Safe Space
The safe house was too quiet.It had the kind of silence that never sat right with me,,too clean, too distant, like a room waiting for something to break. Ivy was asleep on the couch, her knees drawn up, her hair spilling like dark silk over the pillow. I sat across from her in the armchair, half a whiskey in my hand, half a curse in my mouth.I should’ve been at ease. She was here. Out of that damned mansion. Out of Victor’s cage. But there was no ease in me. Not now. Not when every second we breathed was borrowed time.I kept watching her chest rise and fall, the steady rhythm like an anchor, but it was also a weight. She trusted me enough to sleep. That meant I couldn’t afford to fail.The burner phone on the table buzzed, shattering the quiet.I was up before the second vibration, snatching it. My voice was a low growl when I answered. “Yeah?”“Killian?”Mrs. B.My shoulders unclenched just enough to let out a breath. “It’s me.”“Good.” Her tone was brisk, but beneath it I could h
His To Ruin Chapter One Hundred and Fourteen: Orders in Blood
Robert Wolfe was a man who believed silence was the sharpest weapon in his arsenal. Noise was for men who had nothing else to offer, men like his son Victor who thought rage equaled power. Robert knew better. Rage clouded, rage exposed. Strategy killed.The study smelled of smoke and oak, curtains drawn to keep the morning light at bay. The shattered whisky glass from the night before had already been swept away, though Robert could still see the stain bleeding faintly into the carpet fibers. He sat behind his desk, hands clasped, and waited as one of his men returned with a phone pressed into his palm.His voice was low, clipped. “Call Mercer back. Tell him the retraction is coming. Immediate.”The man nodded, no questions asked, and disappeared again.Extraction. That was the word Robert had used. Cold. Clean. Not a trace of softness to it. He gave no further instructions aloud, but his men knew what it meant, and a message would be sent soon to killian or anybody that helps him , a
His To Ruin Chapter One Hundred and Thirteen: The Cost Of Delay
The Wolfe mansion had been locked down for hours, the air so thick with tension it felt like smoke in the lungs. Victor stormed through the halls like a rabid dog, his orders echoing off marble and steel. Guards doubled, gates reinforced, every servant interrogated until their hands shook with fear.But Robert sat in his leather chair, silent. A predator at rest. Watching. Thinking.He had lived long enough to know rage was a luxury only the inexperienced indulged in. Weak men shouted; strong men calculated. And Robert Wolfe had never been weak.The knock at his study door came hesitant, almost apologetic. One of his men entered, phone in hand, bowing his head low as if approaching an altar.“Sir,” the man said carefully. “It’s Mercer.”Robert’s sharp eyes flicked to the phone. Daniel Mercer. A name few in his household even knew. A shadow asset. A relic of older, dirtier days. Useful precisely because he was invisible.Robert gestured with two fingers. The phone was placed into his h
His To Ruin Chapter One Hundred and Twelve: The Fortress of Wolves
The Wolfe estate no longer resembled a mansion. By the time the sun climbed above the horizon, it had been transformed into a fortress.Iron gates clanged shut, chains locking into place like prison bars. Guards in black tactical uniforms flooded the grounds, radios crackling with clipped orders. No car entered, no servant left. Every door was bolted, every window latched. The house, once alive with the bustle of florists and planners, now breathed fear.Victor Wolfe stood at the center of it all like a general preparing for war. His tailored suit was half buttoned, his hair still disheveled from the early hours, but his presence was electrified, dangerous.“She didn’t vanish into thin air,” he barked, pacing before the line of trembling staff gathered in the grand hall. “She had help. Someone in this house opened a door, carried a bag, left a post. Someone thinks they’re clever enough to betray me.” His eyes swept over them like a blade. “I will find them. And when I do..." He snappe
His To Ruin Chapter One Hundred and Eleven: The Bride Who Vanished
Victor Wolfe woke before the sun.The mansion was alive with preparations, every corridor humming with quiet urgency. Florists bustled in and out of the grand hall, arms full of roses so red they looked like spilled blood. Silver trays gleamed in the kitchens, servants darted between polished marble and towering champagne towers. Outside, the Wolfe estate gleamed like a crown awaiting its jewel.And that jewel, today, was Ivy Lancaster.His bride. His triumph. His possession.Victor stood before his mirror, shirt half-buttoned, admiring his reflection as though he could already see the headlines:Victor Wolfe, heir apparent. Victor Wolfe, husband. Victor Wolfe and Ivy Lancaster wedded.For years, his life had been measured against another man’s name, his brother’s name. Killian. Killian, the bastard, the shadow, the thief of every whisper of power before Victor could claim it. But today, the scales tipped. Today, in front of their father, their society, their world, Victor would prove
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