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Chapter Seventy-Three: Echoes of His Face
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2025-07-16 17:23:56
Jhumie_writesThis chapter has been building behind the scenes for a long time, and now, finally, Killian knows the truth. His real name. His real father. The love story that was stolen from him before he was even born. Every ghost has a face, and Killian just came face-to-face with his. As he steps out of that house, he’s no longer just the man caught between two worlds, he’s a storm with purpose, and Robert Wolfe has no idea what’s coming. Let me know what you think of June Jackson, and if you felt the weight of this long buried secret coming to light. Things are about to escalate… and revenge will be personal. —Thank you for reading, JW
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His To Ruin Chapter Two Hundred and Four: The Madness Inside
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His To Ruin Chapter Two Hundred and Three: The Monster Unleashed
The Wolfe estate was tense, every shadow seeming to tremble under the weight of Victor’s rage. Robert sat at the massive mahogany desk in his office, the kind of posture that always screamed authority and control, but tonight, even he seemed smaller, frailer, as if the air itself knew he was facing something far beyond his power.Victor stormed in, his movements sharp, violent, almost animalistic. His eyes were wild, the fire in them enough to scorch the walls around him. “Father!” he bellowed, voice cracking with fury. “You think you can keep hiding her from me? You think I am the villain? Not Killian?”Robert rose slowly, trying to mask the unease curling through him. “Victor, calm down..."“Calm down?” Victor shouted, the words echoing off the high ceilings. “Calm down? You think I need to calm down? You think I care about consequences anymore?” He slammed his fists on the desk, the reverberation loud enough to make the guards flinch. “She's mine! Ivy is mine to end, and I will mar
His To Ruin Chapter Two Hundred and Two: Brothers in the Shadows
The night was quiet outside, the kind of stillness that made every small sound, every creak of a shutter, every distant car horn, feel amplified. Killy stepped into Mark’s mechanic shop, the familiar scent of grease, metal, and old rubber greeting him like an old friend. The overhead lights cast long, angular shadows across the space, turning the rows of cars and tools into a maze of dark shapes.Mark was already there, leaning against a workbench, arms crossed. His eyes flicked up as Killy entered, and for a moment, the two brothers simply regarded each other. No words, just presence. In the silence, the weight of everything pressing down on them, the plan, Ivy’s captivity, Killian’s safety, the Wolves, settled like dust in the corners of the shop.Killy finally broke the silence. His voice was low, measured, but carried the tremor of worry he refused to show elsewhere.“I’m worried,” he said simply.Mark raised an eyebrow but stayed silent, waiting.“About Killian,” Killy continued,
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The small apartment felt impossibly quiet at first. Too quiet for someone used to constant danger, constant alertness, constant calculation. But now, with Mark and Killy having arranged everything, I was learning that quiet didn’t have to mean loneliness, it could mean safety.June arrived first, carrying a tray so heavy I thought she might topple under it. “Sit down before I knock you over, Killian,” she said, balancing the food with ease, and her grin was infectious. “You need to eat. Even a little bite.”Mark hovered near the doorway, arms crossed, smirking like he enjoyed the chaos his sister created. Killy, ever patient, leaned against the kitchen counter, observing me with the kind of quiet pride that made me ache in my chest. He was finally home, and even in this small, bare apartment, he looked like he belonged.The smell of food alone was enough to soften some of the tension I had been carrying. Steaming rice, roasted meat, vegetables seasoned the way only home could do, smell
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The small apartment was quiet, almost suspiciously so. It wasn’t home, not really. But it was safe. Enough. And it almost feel like home. Mark had arranged it, spare, functional, nothing flashy. A place where my father and I could rest without worrying about cameras, spies, or Wolfe operatives tracking our every move.I sank onto the couch, elbows on my knees, hands clasped. Killy sat across from me, reading something on his phone, but even that felt like a rare, small comfort.Mark appeared in the doorway, clipboard in hand, eyes sharp as ever. “We’re secure,” he said firmly. “I’ve alerted the boys around town. Any suspicious move, anyone unfamiliar, everything is under watch. You’re off duty for now. Take a Rest.”I shook my head. “I can’t rest. Not yet. Not while Ivy...”“You’ve done enough,” Mark interrupted, voice steady, non-negotiable. “Right now, your job is to be ready. Mentally. Strategically. We’ll handle the perimeter. I am your uncle and it is also my job to keep you safe
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