MY FATHER-IN-LAW; MY RUIN

ELARA'S POV

"Where the hell do you think you’re going, Elara?"

The voice was like a low-frequency hum that vibrated right through my spine, cutting through the heavy bass of the club. I didn't turn around. I didn't have to. I’d know that authoritative, dark velvet tone anywhere.

"Away from you, Silas," I snapped, my voice thick with the burn of cheap whiskey and even cheaper heartbreak.

I stared down at my phone screen until the light blinded me. The pixels felt like they were bleeding into my retinas.

There they were. My mate, Jax, lounging on white silk sheets in nothing but his briefs, looking every bit the golden boy I’d loved for three years. And draped over him like a prize was Mia. My sister. My blood. She was wearing lace panties I’d helped her pick out for her own birthday.

The hotel room was unmistakable—The Grand Crest. The best suite in our Pack’s territory.

"Now, do you believe me?"

The text underneath the images felt like a branding iron pressed against my ribs. I’d spent months laughing off the anonymous warnings. I’d cursed the sender for making AI pictures and false texts, defended Jax with my life, and boasted about the 'unbreakable' strength of our bond.

What a joke.

I signaled the bartender for another glass. My throat was already raw, but I needed the fire.

I needed to drown out the memory of Jax kissing my forehead two hours ago, claiming he had an "emergency pack meeting" on our anniversary dinner. I had smiled. I had trusted him. I had sent him off with a kiss while he went to fuck my sister.

"You’ve had enough," Silas said.

A large, calloused hand reached over my shoulder, his fingers wrapping around the glass before it could touch my lips. He set it firmly back on the mahogany bar.

I spun around on the stool, my head swimming. Silas Vane. My mate’s supposed father. A man who was powerful, married, and entirely too observant. He looked down at me, his dark suit perfectly tailored, his eyes swirling with an intensity that made the air in my lungs vanish.

"Go home, Elara. Your mate has been calling me for an hour, frantic because you aren't answering."

"My mate?" I let out a jagged, hysterical laugh that tasted like salt and copper. "You mean the man who’s currently busy with my sister? Don't use that word with me. It’s disgusting."

Silas’s expression didn't flicker, but his grip on the edge of the bar tightened. "You’re drunk. You’re making a scene in a place you don't belong."

"I don't belong anywhere!" I shouted over the music, poking a finger into his hard chest. "Stop acting like you care. You’ve spent three years correcting me, judging me, and watching me like I’m some stray pup that needs training. Just leave me alone!"

"Damn you! We’re leaving. Now!"

He grabbed my upper arm, his touch firm and scorching. I tried to yank away, but it was like trying to move a mountain.

"Let go of me! You're hurting me!"

"I'm keeping you from being hunted," Silas growled, leaning in so close his lips brushed my ear. His scent—cedarwood and something dangerously masculine—overpowered the club's stench.

"Look around, Elara. There are five men at the end of the bar waiting for you to pass out so they can take what isn't theirs. The only person scaring you right now should be me."

Something dark flashed in his eyes—a predatory, possessive hunger that made my stomach flip in a way that wasn't the alcohol. He had always been the one with the rules. The one who told me to stand straighter, speak less, and follow protocol.

Jax indeed gave me freedom; Silas gave me boundaries. And god help me, as my heart lay in pieces on the floor because of Jax's 'freedom,' I found myself leaning into Silas’s strength.

"You’re a Luna," he hissed, his voice dropping to a dangerous, intimate level. "Act like it. Or should I treat you like the brat you're being and find a more... private way to handle this defiance?"

My breath hitched. My body, traitorous and broken, thrummed with a sudden, illicit heat. He was married. He was my father-in-law. He was the line I could never cross.

"Please," I whispered, though I didn't know if I was asking him to save me or ruin me.

"Strength, Elara," he muttered, pulling me toward the exit. "Pray for it. Because you're going to need it to survive the night I have planned for you."

"My breath hitched, my pulse racing as he looked at me with an intensity that promised consequences. "You wouldn't dare," I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and a heat I couldn't suppress.

"Try me," Silas growled.

Before I could even blink, he moved. In one fluid, powerful motion, he bent down and hoisted me up, flinging me over his broad shoulder like I weighed nothing at all. The world tilted as my stomach hit his hard muscle.

"Silas! Put me down!" I shrieked, kicking my legs, but he didn't even flinch.

Instead, his large palm came down with a sharp, echoing smack against my backside. The sting was sudden and hot, sending a jolt of pure electricity straight to my core.

"Quiet, Elara," he warned, his voice a low rumble against my thighs as he strode toward the exit.

I went still, my face flushing a deep crimson. The shame was there, but beneath it, my hormones were spiraling out of control. My heart was shattered by Jax’s betrayal, yet as Silas’s scent filled my senses, my mind began to betray me too.

I’d spent years secretly watching him from across dinner tables, wondering what those disciplined hands would feel like if they weren't so busy correcting me.

Now, draped over him, I could almost imagine it. I could see myself pinned beneath him, his suit discarded, his cold discipline snapping as he pounded into me with the same relentless power he used to command the Pack. The thought made me ache in places that should have been numb with grief.

He pushed through the heavy club doors and reached his sleek, black SUV. With a rough jerk, he opened the door and shoved me into the front passenger seat. I bounced against the leather, my hair a mess, my eyes stinging with fresh tears.

Before I could scramble out, he slammed the door and locked it with a sharp click.

He rounded the hood, his movements predatory and fast, and slid into the driver’s seat.

The engine roared to life, filling the cramped space with a tension so thick I could taste it. He didn't say a word; he just gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white, and peeled away from the curb.

I squeezed my eyes shut and turned my head away, staring hard at the dark window. I didn't want him to see my tears, and I definitely didn't want him to see the desperate, shameful hunger in my eyes. I prayed for the strength to survive the night, because I was standing on the edge of a cliff, and Silas Vane looked like he was ready to push me off.