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Chapter Seven: Wolfe Brothers
Huling Na-update:
2025-04-28 21:08:33Victor finally left, and for the first time in hours, I could breathe, a real, deep breath.
Andrew must have seen the relief wash over my face because he chuckled under his breath, like he knew I was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders.
I tried to smile, but the truth was, I wasn’t entirely okay. I was still a little pissed that Killian had left without a proper goodbye, and the bitterness of it soured my mood in a way I hated to admit.
I followed Andrew back to his suite, watching him unpack while my mind wandered places it shouldn’t, places that smelled like leather, whiskey, and forbidden touches.
It was just lust.
Just reckless desire. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.“You know,” Andrew said casually, tossing a shirt onto the bed, “if I didn’t know you better, I’d swear there’s something you’re not telling me about Victor’s brother and you.”
I froze for a fraction of a second.
Then I forced a laugh, too loud, too fake.“Ooh, no,” I said, waving my hand. “We just met. He seems… different from Victor.”
I was desperately trying to sound convincing. Trying not to sound suspicious.
Andrew narrowed his eyes slightly, like he was studying me.
“Trust me, Victor’s the better one. His brother, yeah, the guy’s good-looking, but Victor is the sweet one.”“You know him?” I asked too quickly, the impatience in my voice slipping through before I could stop it.
Andrew’s brow lifted. “Do you have a crush on him, Ivy?”
“No!” I practically shouted, my heart slamming against my ribs. “I mean… no. He just seems… mysterious.”
“Mysterious,” Andrew repeated with a small smirk. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”
I pressed my lips together, trying to look casual while my pulse raced.
“Of course he’s mysterious. There’s barely anything about him online,” Andrew continued, shoving a few more clothes into drawers. “I did a background check on their family when I heard you were getting married to one of the Wolfe brothers.”
My stomach twisted.
“What did you find?” I asked, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.“If you’re worried about Victor, you’re fine,” Andrew assured me. “He’s the face of the company. Good grades. Good reputation. Solid business deals. Polished personality. No scandals. He’s the golden boy.”
“And Killian?” I asked, before I could stop myself.
Andrew paused, his expression shifting just slightly.
“Killian’s… different,” he said carefully. “Got himself into a lot of trouble as a teenager. They used to call him ‘the wicked bachelor.’ Always photographed with a different woman. Always in and out of some fight or scandal.”
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry.
“He keeps a low profile these days,” Andrew went on, “but his lifestyle? Still wild. He doesn’t live with the family. He barely even stays in one place. Keeps to himself. Parties hard. Slips strippers and sex workers through his house like it’s a revolving door. If you ask me, Ivy, you’re lucky you didn’t end up with him.”
Lucky.
That word echoed in my head long after Andrew had finished speaking.
Lucky.
Was that what this was?Because standing there, smiling and nodding along to my brother’s words, all I could think about was the way Killian’s mouth had felt on mine. The way his touch had set my body on fire. The way one night with him had already ruined me for anyone else, including Victor.
Lucky?
No.
I was cursed.And the worst part was, some wicked, broken part of me didn’t even want to be saved.
But then another thought crept in, colder, sharper. What if I was just a fling? What if, for Killian, I was nothing more than a moment of pleasure, a reckless mistake he had already forgotten?
For a man like him, I was nothing.
“At least with Victor you have a chance at happiness,” Andrew said, not even knowing how deep his words cut. “At a good marriage. Not Killian… that man? There are things about him I can’t even bring myself to tell you.”
I smiled weakly, pretending his words didn’t gut me. But inside, a storm was already brewing.
Because I knew, without a doubt, whatever those secrets were, they were already pulling me deeper into Killian Wolfe’s dangerous world.
And somehow, I knew, no matter how dark it got,
nothing would ever stop me from wanting that man.
Pinakabagong kabanata
His To Ruin Chapter Ninety-Two: In the Quiet, Only Her
I drove home with the windows down, letting the night air cut through the stench of gunpowder and the faint copper of blood that still clung to me. My knuckles ached from the fight. My jaw was tight, teeth grinding with every mile. Silas’s voice still echoed in my head, the way he’d said Robert’s name, the way he’d talked about my father like he was nothing but dirt in the ground.I wanted to punch the steering wheel. I wanted to turn the car around and make him die all over again.By the time I reached my building, the world felt quieter. Not calm, never calm, but muted, like everything was underwater. I parked, took the service elevator straight up, and keyed in the security codes without thinking.Inside, I stripped down before the door had even shut behind me. My clothes went into a black trash bag. Not the laundry. Not ever again.The shower was hot enough to scald, but I needed it. Steam swallowed the bathroom, and I stood there with my head bowed, water pounding down over my s
His To Ruin Chapter Ninety-One: Erase
His body was still warm when I stood over it.Silas Hayes lay sprawled on the floor, the pistol I’d ripped from him just minutes ago lying a few feet away. My own breathing was sharp and uneven, the air thick with the stench of gunpowder. My hands weren’t trembling, not exactly, they just hadn’t decided whether to stay clenched or open.I’d killed him.And now I had a problem.The clock had started the moment his eyes rolled back. Every second I stayed here, the odds got worse. But walking out now, leaving things as they were, would be suicide. I’d as good as written my name on the walls in my own blood.I forced my lungs to slow down. Focus.First rule: don’t think about the body. Not yet. Think about the room. Think about what they’ll see when they get here.I pulled a pair of thin leather gloves from my pocket, ones I’d kept in case the night turned dirty, and slipped them on. I crouched beside Silas. The smell of him was different now, sweat, gunpowder, that copper tang of blood
His To Ruin Chapter Ninety: Brewing the Fire
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
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