My Stepbrother My Ruin

The gates of the Van Doren swung open.

Brianna watched the limestone pillars blur past, her stomach churning with every inch the limousine moved forward.

Beside her, Eloise was checking her reflection for the tenth time. Her mother looked radiant in a silk dress that cost more than their last three months of rent.

"Fix your hair, Brianna," Eloise said, her voice sharp. "And for heaven's sake, try to look like you belong here. This isn't the slums anymore."

"I don't belong here, Mom," Brianna muttered. "We’re just the new ornaments for Declan’s collection."

"Declan is a good man. He’s providing for us. You will show him respect, and you will stay out of Dawson’s way. He’s the alpha of this house, and he doesn’t take kindly to outsiders."

Brianna looked out the window. She had heard of Dawson Van Doren. Everyone had. He was the ruthless heir to a shipping empire, a man known for tearing competitors apart without blinking. 

The car stopped in front of a sprawling manor that looked more like a fortress. A man stood on the steps, his presence commanding and stern. Declan Van Doren.

"Eloise, my love," Declan said, stepping forward as the driver opened the door. He kissed her mother’s hand before turning his gaze to Brianna. "And this is Brianna. Welcome to your new home."

"Thank you, sir," Brianna said, keeping her voice low.

"Call me Declan. Come inside. The staff has prepared a meal, and I believe my son is waiting in the study."

The foyer was cold, despite the gold leafing and the massive chandeliers. It felt like walking into a predator's den. The silence was heavy, broken only by the click of their shoes on the marble floor.

They moved toward a set of doors. Declan pushed them open, revealing a room lined with thousands of books and a scent of expensive tobacco and cedar.

A man sat behind a massive desk, his head down as he signed papers. He didn't look up when they entered. The tension in the room shifted instantly. It felt like the oxygen had been sucked out of the space.

"Dawson," Declan said. "They’re here."

Dawson Van Doren finally lifted his head. His eyes were the color of a winter storm, piercing and utterly void of warmth. He didn't look at Eloise. His gaze snapped directly to Brianna, locking onto her with a predatory intensity that made her breath hitch.

He didn't stand up. He didn't smile. He just stared at her like she was a bug he wanted to crush under his boot.

"So," Dawson said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "This is the charity case."

"Dawson, watch your tongue," Declan warned, though there was no real bite in his tone.

Dawson stood up then, his tall, powerful frame casting a long shadow over the room. He walked around the desk with the slow, deliberate grace of a wolf stalking its prey. He stopped just inches from Brianna, invading her personal space until she could smell the dark, intoxicating scent of him.

He was beautiful in a way that felt violent.

"You’re in my territory now, Brianna," he whispered, his voice for her ears only. "Don't think for a second that your mother’s marriage makes you family. You’re an intruder. And I don't like intruders."

Brianna felt her face heat up with a mix of anger and fear. "I didn't ask to be here."

"Then leave," he snapped, his eyes flashing with ice. "Go back to whatever gutter you crawled out of before you get hurt."

"That’s enough," a new voice called out.

A man stepped into the study from a side door. He looked older than Dawson but carried himself with a terrifyingly calm elegance. This was Eric, Declan’s oldest friend and the man they called Uncle.

"You’re scaring the girl, Dawson," Eric said, his eyes scanning Brianna with a look that felt far too heavy. "She’s a guest. We should treat her with care."

Eric walked over and placed a hand on Brianna’s shoulder. His palm was burning hot, his fingers lingering a second too long near her neck. Brianna flinched, but his grip didn't loosen.

"She’s a beauty, Declan," Eric said, his voice smooth. "You didn't mention she was so... delicate."

Dawson’s jaw tightened. He looked at Eric’s hand on Brianna’s shoulder, and for a split second, a flash of pure rage crossed his face.

"She’s a stray, Eric. Nothing more," Dawson said, turning his back on them. "Declan, I have a meeting. I don't have time for this circus."

"We’re having dinner at eight, Dawson. Be there," Declan commanded.

Dawson didn't answer. He walked past Brianna, intentionally brushing his shoulder against hers so hard she stumbled. He didn't look back.

Dinner was a nightmare.

Brianna sat across from Dawson, who spent the entire meal ignoring her, yet she could feel his gaze burning into her whenever she looked down at her plate. Raven, Dawson’s cousin, sat beside him, whispering in his ear and laughing. Raven was sharp, blonde, and looked at Brianna with the same disgust Dawson did.

"So, Brianna," Raven said, her voice dripping with fake honey. "What exactly do you do? Besides living off other people's money?"

"I’m a student," Brianna said, her voice trembling. "I work part-time at a library."

"How quaint," Raven sneered. "I suppose you’ll be looking for a handout from the Van Doren foundation next?"

"She won't be looking for anything," Dawson interrupted, his voice cold. "Because she won't be here long enough to get comfortable."

Eloise laughed nervously, trying to break the tension. "Dawson is such a joker. We’re all family now."

Dawson dropped his silver fork. The loud clang on the china made everyone jump.

"We are not family," Dawson said, his voice flat and final. "My mother is buried in the ground. This woman is a replacement, and the girl is a mistake."

The table went silent. Declan sighed, but he didn't defend his new wife. He just kept eating.

Brianna felt a lump in her throat. She pushed her chair back, the legs screeching against the floor. "Excuse me. I’m not feeling well."

She hurried out of the dining room, her vision blurring with tears. She didn't know where she was going in this maze of a house. she just needed to breathe.

She found herself in a long, dimly lit hallway near the back of the house. The walls were covered in dark portraits of grim-looking men. She leaned against a cold stone pillar, trying to catch her breath.

"Running away already?"

She gasped, spinning around. Dawson was standing there, leaning against the doorway, his hands in his pockets. He looked like a dark god in the shadows.

"Leave me alone, Dawson," she whispered.

"I told you," he said, stepping closer. "I don't like you here. You’re a distraction. A parasite."

"I hate this place more than you do!" she shouted, her voice echoing. "I’ll leave as soon as I can."

"You think it’s that easy?" He moved faster than she could track, pinning her against the pillar. He didn't touch her with his hands, but his body was a wall of heat, trapping her. "My father is obsessed with your mother. And Eric... Eric is already looking at you like you’re his next meal."

"What are you talking about?"

"You’re naive," Dawson sneered, his face inches from hers. "This house eats girls like you. You think you’re safe? You’re in a den of wolves, Brianna. And I’m the one you should be most afraid of."

He reached out then, his hand gripping her chin, forcing her to look up at him. His thumb pressed hard against her bottom lip, a gesture that was both violent and strangely intimate.

"Don't wander the halls at night," he warned, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Because if I find you again, I won't be this polite."

He let go of her abruptly, his eyes scanning her one last time with a look of pure loathing. He turned and walked away into the darkness.

Brianna stood there, her heart racing, her lip still stinging from his touch. She turned to head back to her room, but as she passed a set of heavy curtains, a hand reached out and grabbed her arm.

She went to scream, but a large hand covered her mouth.

She was pulled into a dark alcove. She looked up and saw Eric. He wasn't smiling anymore. His eyes were wide, dark, and hungry.

"Shh," Eric whispered, his breath smelling of expensive scotch. "I told you I’d take care of you, didn't I? Dawson is a cruel boy. He doesn't understand your value. But I do."

His hand moved from her mouth to her waist, pulling her flush against him. Brianna struggled, but he was too strong.

"Let me go," she hissed against his palm.

"In a moment," Eric murmured. "I just wanted to give you a proper welcome. Something to remember."

Suddenly, the sound of a heavy door slamming shut echoed through the hall.

"Eric?" Declan’s voice called out from the distance.

Eric froze. He leaned in, his lips brushing Brianna’s ear. "This is our little secret, Brianna. If you tell a soul, your mother will be back on the streets by morning. Do you understand?"

He released her and stepped out of the shadows just as Declan appeared at the end of the hall.

Brianna stood frozen in the dark, her skin crawling, her heart hammering against her ribs. She looked toward the stairs, where she could see Dawson standing on the landing, watching the entire exchange from the shadows.

He didn't move to help her. He didn't say a word. He just watched her with those cold, dead eyes, a twisted smirk forming on his face.

He knew. He had seen everything, and he was going to let it happen.

Brianna realized then that Dawson wasn't just her stepbrother. He was a psychopath.

She turned to run to her room, but as she reached her door, she saw a single red rose pinned to the wood with a small, sharp dagger. Attached to it was a note in elegant, jagged handwriting.

Welcome to the family, Brianna.