บททั้งหมดของ Guardian of Ruin: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

Eden I can’t stop thinking about the way he said it. "That doesn’t mean I don’t have rules of my own." It’s been two hours since Roman brushed past me in the living room, but the words are still lodged in my chest like a thorn I keep pushing against. Sharp. Deep. Just enough to sting. I sit curled up on the window seat in my bedroom, pretending to read, but really I’m just staring out at the backyard. Roman's there. Shirt off. Sweating. Swinging an axe into logs like the woods have personally offended him. He’s not just strong. He’s violent in the way he moves—controlled chaos. Like he’s constantly holding himself back from going further. Doing more. And it makes my stomach twist in ways I can’t admit out loud. He’s not like other men. Not like the boys in my classes who wear sneakers too clean and hands too soft. Roman looks like he could break someone with a thought—and maybe he has. I wonder what he does when my father isn’t around. I wonder what happens at that secret

Roman's POV I never wanted Eden caught in this. But the past doesn’t forget. It doesn’t forgive. Tonight, I sit in the shadows of the club’s back room, watching faces I once trusted now trade whispers behind my back. They’re talking about Eden. A girl they see as a weakness. I clamp my jaw tight. Years ago, I left that world for good—swore I’d never let it touch anyone I care about. But now it’s here. And the deeper I try to protect her, the more she’s pulled in. I owe my silence to my old allies—but if I don’t act soon, Eden will pay the price. My phone buzzes. A message from a name I hoped never to see again. “She’s a liability.” The warning is clear. And the war I thought was over is just beginning. --- Eden's POV I can feel it—eyes watching me, shadows shifting in corners I thought were safe. Roman’s secrets aren’t just stories. They’re traps. And I’m standing right in the middle. Tonight, I’ll find out what he’s hiding. Even if it d

Eden & Roman The safe house was nothing more than a forgotten corner of the city, a cramped apartment above a closed-down bakery. The peeling wallpaper and the faint smell of dampness did little to ease the suffocating tension between us. The city’s distant hum felt worlds away from this dim, claustrophobic space where shadows clung to every surface like silent watchers. I sank heavily onto the threadbare couch, my limbs heavy, my mind racing through every moment of the night. My heart still thudded with the memory of running, the crack of gunfire, the cold steel of fear pressing down on me. Roman closed the door behind us and locked it with a solid click. I heard the bolt slide home and the faint sound of a key turning in the dead lock on the deadbolt. For the first time in hours, the dangerous chase seemed to pause—but the weight of what we had done settled like stone in my chest. He leaned against the wall opposite me, arms crossed, his face unreadable but tense, like a man

RomanThere was a particular kind of stillness before a storm—the kind I’d learned to recognize years ago. The city outside our safe house window buzzed with everyday life, oblivious to the silent war blooming in its cracks. And here we were, three ghosts of a buried past trying to resurrect just enough firepower to survive what was coming.The plan was reckless. We all knew it. But desperation sharpens the senses, and Eden’s father—John—was a man whose instincts had been forged in the dirtiest fires of espionage and betrayal. Now he was back in it, bait dangling from a wire, and we were the ones holding the thread.“We leak the intel in two stages,” John said, pinning photos and documents to the wall with quick, precise movements. “Stage one: a whisper that I’ve reentered the field. Stage two: hint that I’m bringing something Lucien wants.”Eden, sitting across from me at the table, raised an eyebrow. “What does he want?”John turned to her, his jaw tight. “Control. He always wanted

The penthouse was a cathedral of quiet dominance. Cold floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked a city glittering with illusion—neon lights, traffic, rooftop gardens hiding surveillance panels and blood-soaked deals. To the untrained eye, it was beautiful. To Lucien Kade, it was already his. He stood at the center of the room, arms behind his back, watching the surveillance screen embedded in the wall. A dozen windows blinked in silence. Heat signatures. Facial recognition grids. Audio patterns filtered by AI algorithms he’d designed himself when trust had been a currency he could no longer afford. And in the largest frame, right in the center, was her. Eden Kieran. He zoomed in with a slow drag of his fingers. Her face pixelated, then clarified—wet hair sticking to her cheeks, lips slightly parted as she looked toward Roman. There was a fire behind her eyes. Fear, yes, but also something else. Resolve. “She’ll be trouble,” Vaughn muttered from behind him. Lucien didn't turn. “No.