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Chapter Thirty-Six: After the Fire
Last Updated:
2025-05-25 21:41:44
Jhumie_writesWhew, what a chapter, right? Killian’s world is cracking, and for the first time, he’s forced to sit with the weight of it all. The shame. The anger. The guilt. And maybe the worst of it, the silence from the one woman who was always supposed to understand him: his mother. This chapter was about emotional aftermath, and I wanted you to feel that suffocating tension of being both the villain and the victim. Killian stood up for Ivy, but now he’s alone with everything he’s lost… and everything he still wants. Thank you for staying with me through the storm. Don’t forget to comment, vote, and share your thoughts. I love hearing from you. Until the next twist, JW
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His To Ruin Chapter Ninety-Six: A Name and Secrets
I stayed where I was, hands in my pockets, watching cartoons flicker across the muted TV. The playroom door down the hall had opened and closed again. Her voice floated back, soft, warm in a way I’d never heard from her. Not the Marisol I’d dug into, the one who could slit a man’s throat with a smile and wipe the blade clean before you hit the floor.When she came back, she didn’t sit. She stood in the doorway, arms folded, eyes locked on me like I was a fire she couldn’t decide would burn her house down or keep it warm.“Why’d you kill Silas?” she asked.I turned my head toward her, slow. “Because he was a loud mouth.”Her mouth tightened. She didn’t question it, she didn’t have to. She’d always known what men like Silas were.“Yeah,” she said quietly. “He was. He was… a lot to handle.”“But you liked him,” I said.Silence.The hum of the refrigerator filled the pause, and somewhere down the hall a child laughed. Her gaze dropped for a moment, as if that sound alone was the only thin
His To Ruin Chapter Ninety-Five: Marisol’s Door
Marisol’s house was the kind you could drive past a hundred times and never remember. A quiet street. Mid sized, beige painted walls. A patch of grass that looked like it had been bullied into staying green. The kind of place people choose when they want to fade into something respectable, wrap themselves in the illusion of safety.I parked across the street and watched for a while. Not because I needed to. Because I wanted her to feel the shadow before she saw me.Through the curtains, I caught glimpses, her moving from the kitchen to the living room, hair tied up, wearing one of those cotton house dresses that said I don’t belong to the past anymore. A child’s voice drifted faintly through the open kitchen window. Then another, younger, crying for attention.She wasn’t expecting me.I stepped out of the car and crossed the street, the sound of my boots on pavement steady, deliberate. A tricycle sat by the porch, a red one with faded stickers peeling from the sides. My shadow fell ov
His To Ruin Chapter Ninety-Four: Stirring
The rain had not stopped since dawn, a slow, deliberate drizzle that blurred the city skyline into gray smudges. Robert stood by his office window, one hand resting on the glass, the other cradling a tumbler of whiskey that he had not touched in over an hour. The fire in the hearth crackled behind him, but it did nothing to chase away the chill threading through his veins.The knock came softly,,too soft for anyone but Smoke.Robert turned his head slightly, his eyes catching the faint reflection of the man in the window. Smoke entered without waiting for permission, a shadow among shadows, his coat still damp from the rain. He shut the door behind him with a muted click.Robert studied him in the glass.“Your face tells me I’m not going to like what you’re about to say.”Smoke didn’t answer right away. He stepped further into the room, his boots soundless against the carpet, his hands buried in the pockets of his coat. The silence stretched, a careful thing, until Robert finally turn
His To Ruin Chapter Ninety-Three:
I woke to the sound of my phone ringing. It took me a second to realize it wasn’t someone in the room, it was my phone, vibrating on the nightstand, Ezra’s name glowing in the dark. I groaned and dragged the phone toward me, the brightness stabbing at my eyes. My head still felt heavy from the kind of sleep you fall into when the night before had been all adrenaline and violence.I didn’t bother to clear my throat. “Yeah?”Ezra didn’t waste time.“Did you kill Silas?”No good morning. No warm up. Just that.I stared at the ceiling, the question sitting between us like a live wire. I could still picture Silas’s eyes when they lost focus. Still remember the sound of his body hitting the floor. And for a second, I thought about telling Ezra exactly how it happened, every detail, so it would stick in his head the way it stuck in mine.But that would be stupid.Instead, I let the silence drag just long enough for him to know I’d heard, but not long enough for him to think I was caught off
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
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