Chapter Six — The Rules

Elara's POV

I learned the Iron Reapers’ rules the same way I learned everything else in this world, by surviving what broke others.

The night ended in blood and smoke, but not the way I feared. Nikolai Volkov vanished into the chaos before he could pull the trigger. Ruin didn’t chase him. He chose me instead—dragging me through a hidden stairwell as bullets tore into walls behind us, his body always between danger and my skin.

By dawn, the compound stood scarred but standing.

So was I.

Ruin didn’t sleep after that. Neither did I.

The sun rose pale and thin through the barred window, casting light across his room—across the bed I hadn’t slept in and the floor where he still sat, elbows on knees, eyes sharp and distant.

“You’re watching the door,” I said quietly.

“Yes.”

“Expecting them to come back?”

“Always.”

I wrapped the blanket tighter around myself. “Is it always like this?”

Ruin looked at me then, really looked. “No. Sometimes it’s worse.”

I almost laughed. Almost.

A knock came at the door—sharp, coded. Three quick taps. One slow.

Ruin stood. “Stay.”

He opened the door just enough to speak to the man outside. I recognized Axel’s voice, low and urgent.

“We lost two on the south fence. Perimeter’s stable now.”

Ruin nodded. “Lock it down. No one moves without my word.”

“And her?” Axel asked.

Ruin’s voice dropped. “She stays with me.”

The door closed.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“You’re not leaving this room today,” Ruin said, turning back to me.

“I don’t want to be hidden,” I replied. “I want to understand.”

His brow furrowed. “Understand what?”

“This place. Your rules. Because ignorance almost got me killed last night.”

Silence stretched.

Then Ruin said, “Get dressed.”

We stepped into the compound under the full morning light. The Iron Reapers moved with grim efficiency—repairing damage, cleaning blood, reloading weapons. No panic. No grief was displayed openly.

I noticed the way they looked at me now.

Not curious.

Not resentful.

Careful.

Ruin walked beside me, his hand resting lightly at the small of my back—not possessive, not intimate. Protective. A signal.

“This is rule one,” he said quietly. “No one disrespects you. Ever.”

A man nearby looked up sharply and nodded once when Ruin’s gaze met his.

“Rule two,” Ruin continued, “you don’t wander alone.”

“I noticed,” I murmured.

“Rule three,” he said, stopping near a row of bikes. “You don’t lie to me.”

I turned to face him. “And if I do?”

His eyes hardened. “Then I can’t protect you.”

The weight of that settled deep.

A woman approached—strong build, steady presence. She wore no patch, but everyone moved aside for her.

“Mara,” Ruin said. “This is Elara.”

Mara’s gaze softened slightly. “So you’re the one who made Volkov bold.”

“I didn’t mean to,” I said.

Mara snorted. “None of us ever do.”

She handed me a small pouch. “Medical kit. Keep it on you.”

I accepted it, surprised. “Thank you.”

Mara’s lips curved faintly. “Rule four,” she said. “Bleed quietly or scream. Never in between.”

Ruin shot her a look. “That’s not...”

“She needs to know,” Mara cut in. “They’ll test her.”

My stomach tightened. “Who will?”

“Everyone,” Mara replied calmly.

Ruin led me to the edge of the compound, where a burned motorcycle lay twisted and blackened.

“This is rule five,” he said. “Loyalty is life.”

He crouched, touching the wreckage. “This belonged to a man who sold information to the Bratva.”

I swallowed. “What happened to him?”

Ruin stood slowly. “He won’t do it again.”

No details. None were needed.

We walked back in silence.

“You’re teaching me how to survive here,” I said finally.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He stopped. “Because you’re not leaving.”

The certainty in his voice sent a strange ache through my chest.

Later, back in his quarters, exhaustion finally dragged at me. I sat on the bed while Ruin checked his weapons, methodical and precise.

“You didn’t tell me all the rules,” I said.

He glanced up. “Which one do you think I missed?”

“The one about being your wife,” I said softly.

His movements stilled.

“That rule,” he said after a moment, “is simple.”

I waited.

“You don’t belong to the club,” he continued. “You don’t belong to the Bratva. You don’t belong to me.”

I searched his face. “Then what do I belong to?”

Ruin stepped closer, his voice low, intense. “Yourself.”

Something inside me shifted—fragile and dangerous.

A knock interrupted us.

Axel entered, his expression tight. “We found something.”

“What?” Ruin asked.

Axel looked at me. Hesitated.

“Say it,” Ruin ordered.

Axel exhaled. “Volkov left a gift.”

He handed Ruin a phone.

Ruin’s face darkened as he read.

My pulse quickened. “What is it?”

Ruin lifted his gaze to mine, something fierce and protective burning there.

“He knows a secret,” he said.

My breath caught. “What secret?”

“That you weren’t meant to marry me,” Ruin replied slowly.

My heart slammed.

“You were meant to die,” he finished. “Tonight.”

The phone buzzed again in Ruin’s hand.

A new message appeared—along with a live video feed.

On the screen was my father, bound and bleeding.

And Nikolai Volkov’s voice purred through the speaker:

“Rules are fragile things, Elara.

Break one… and I’ll break him.”

The room tilted.

I reached for the desk to steady myself, my fingers slipping against cold metal. My father’s face filled the screen—bruised, swollen, blood drying at his temple. His eyes were open. Too open. He was conscious.

“Papa…” The word tore out of me before I could stop it.

Ruin was beside me instantly, one hand gripping the back of the chair, the other clenched so tight his knuckles went white. But his voice—when he spoke—was calm. Deadly calm.

“Turn the sound up.”

Nikolai Volkov’s voice slid through the room like poison. “You see? Even now, she cares. That’s the problem with innocent women—they make excellent leverage.”

My chest burned. “This is my fault.”

“No,” Ruin said sharply. “This is his move.”

The screen shifted. Nikolai leaned into view, smiling. “You have one hour, Mrs. Cross. Come alone.”

“Don’t,” Ruin growled.

Nikolai continued smoothly, “Break one rule—wander alone—and your father lives.”

The call ended.

Silence slammed down.

I turned to Ruin, my hands shaking. “If I go, you’ll call it betrayal.”

“Yes.”

“And if I don’t,” I whispered, “he dies.”

Ruin’s jaw flexed. “I will get him.”

“How?” I demanded. “You don’t even know where they are.”

Ruin met my gaze and for the first time, I saw something dangerous there.

Fear.

“I’ll burn the city,” he said. “But it won’t be fast enough.”

The truth settled like ice in my veins.

This wasn’t just about rules anymore.

It was about what I was willing to sacrifice to obey them.

I stepped back slowly.

Ruin noticed immediately. “Elara...don’t.”

“I know your rules now,” I said softly. “And I know how they break.”

I reached for the door.

Ruin moved but not fast enough. Because behind him, the window slid open silently. And a shadow dropped into the room.