All Chapters of His To Ruin: Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

The room reeked of oil, sweat, and something metallic that made my stomach tighten. Shadows clung to the corners, flickering from the emergency lights that hung by exposed wires.Ivy stayed pressed against me, eyes scanning. Every muscle in her body screamed alert, ready.And then I saw him.Not my father.But a man slumped in the center, hands tied, a gag muffling his protests. His uniform, the kind belonging to one of Robert’s private teams, was soaked, torn, and riddled with blood stains.I felt the first punch of adrenaline, sharp and hot. Dante moved forward, scanning. “Where the hell..?”Before he could finish, the shadows shifted. Guards I hadn’t seen emerged from hidden panels, firing with cold precision. But it was if they have been coached not to kill me and ivy. I could see it, the way they are intentionally dodging us. I dove to the floor, pulling Ivy down. Bullets spat sparks from metal crates. A shockwave of gunfire erupted like thunder from inside the room, echoing agai

The plan was simple, get my father out the same way we came in. No noise. No hesitation. No turning back.But nothing about tonight felt simple.He leaned against me as we moved down the hallway, his breath shallow but steady. Ivy stayed on his other side, one hand gripping her knife, the other hovering close to him in case he stumbled.Every few steps, he looked at me as if trying to memorize my face. As if trying to convince himself I was real.“You have her hair,” he murmured.My throat tightened. “So I’ve been told.”His mouth twitched, not quite a smile, not quite a wince. “Elena… have always predicted that our kid will have her hair.”I huffed a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “She wasn’t wrong.”Ivy glanced at me, soft but alert, as though she understood this moment didn’t belong to her and still protected us inside it.The corridor ahead was dark. Too dark. I raised my gun.“Dante,” I whispered.“Clear,” he murmured back, though the tension in his stance said otherwise.We m

The moment stretched before us like a living thing. Rain hammered the roof overhead, lightning flashing through the open hangar doors and casting jagged light over the wet concrete. My father leaned heavily on Ivy and me, still weak but alive. Relief should have been enough, but it wasn’t.There was too much rage in the air. Too much history. Too much unfinished war.A voice sliced through the tension like a blade.“Killian!”Victor staggered forward from the shadows, eyes wide, wild, unfocused. The heavy reek of alcohol clung to him. His coat hung crooked, his hair plastered to his forehead, and his lips twisted into a grin that was anything but sane.“You,” he spat, pointing at me, his finger trembling violently. “You think you can come here, take what’s mine, ruin what’s mine… and just walk away?” His voice cracked, breaking into something feral. “I’ll kill anyone who stands in my way!”I froze, not out of fear, but calculation. This wasn’t drunken bragging. He meant every word.Rob

For a long, suspended second after Elena fell, the world didn’t move.Then the screaming began.Killian Senior’s cry split the air, raw, agonizing, almost animal. Killian dropped to his knees beside him, hands shaking as he pressed them to the blood seeping through Elena’s clothes. Ivy sobbed, helpless, as she tried to steady Killian’s trembling shoulders.But Victor… Victor staggered backward, eyes wide, staring at his own hands as if the gun had burned him.He dropped it. It hit the ground with a hollow clatter.Something inside him snapped.He let out a sound, half laugh, half scream, then clutched his head with both hands, swaying.“No… no… no… NO!”His voice grew louder, more fractured.“I didn’t... I didn’t mean... Mom... MAMA!”His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the wet floor, trembling so violently the rifle beside him rattled. Rain soaked his hair, his clothes, his skin, but he didn’t feel any of it. His breath came out in ragged, broken sobs that shifted into manic laug

It had been three days since we returned to the safe house. Three days of suffocating silence, thick like fog.Killian’s grief didn’t scream. It didn’t collapse into tears when I could see him. It haunted the corners of his eyes, in the way he didn’t speak. But when he was alone, in the dark, behind closed doors, it was different. I heard it.Late at night, I’d catch the low sounds, soft broken sobs, the muffled thump of his fist against a wall, his breath ragged. I tried not to listen, but how could I not?And his father… Killian Sr. … watched him with the same hollow pain. He would sit at the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor as though waiting for the earth to open and swallow him. His hands trembling all the time. They didn’t have the luxury of reaching each other yet, not really. The grief between them was too fresh, too raw, too wide. Two men who finally found each other after decades apart… only to lose the one person who tied them together.There was a