All Chapters of Echoes of Ruin: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

I could sense it before I even walked into the strategy compound. Suspicion had a smell. It was heavy, greasy, and bitter. It clung to the air just behind polite smiles and curtains and in the corners like cobwebs. And today? It filled the air. It wasn’t the usual simmering, low-level unease you got when a bunch of oversized egos were herded under one roof. This was pointed. Intentional. And I didn’t have to guess who it was pointed at. Or rather, who it was pointed at us. A first-year wolf nudged me in the hall, hard enough that I stumbled but not enough that I didn’t catch his name before he flicked a taunting smirk over his shoulder. Two more over near the west stairwell stopped talking the second I passed, eyebrows narrowing between me and the runes in the arch above the door,

I’d barely made it five steps into the common room before Maeve Holloway intercepted me like a sentry on a mission. Her braid was looped in a crown around her head, her expression already brimming with the exact kind of chaos I didn’t have the patience for today.“Don’t say no yet,” she warned, finger raised. “Hear me out. Then you can throw yourself off the balcony.”I arched a brow, tugging my hoodie sleeves past my knuckles. “Always inspiring confidence, Holloway.”She launched into it anyway. “The council is throwing a Valentine’s Day Ball. Mandatory attendance unless you’ve got a death certificate, a valid portal malfunction excuse, or proof you’re already bonded and gross.”“And let me guess, they put Hawthorne House in charge of the planning?”“Technically, no. They tried to stick Everley with it, but Isolde Delmar’s been on a power trip since the winter massacre. She pitched a full-blown Heart & Thorn theme and bribed two of the Everley girls, Sera and Nadine, to get on board.

It didn’t end because we wanted it to. It ended because Professor Zimmer came into the greenhouse with a load of potion herbs, and nearly dropped them all when she saw our shadows plastered together against the glass. Ronan and I flung apart like we’d been snapped by competing magnets, sending a tray of moonvine clippings crashing to the floor. She raised a brow, huffed something about idiot wolves thinking her lab was a mating den, and told both of us to fuck off before she cursed us to a lifetime of erectile dysfunction. We left in opposite directions. Not because we were avoiding each other. Not even close. More like we were one more breath away from doing something obscene on Sara Zimmer’s countertop, and neither of us had the good sense to stop. I didn’t sleep that night. I tried. Lying in bed and staring up at the runes carved into the ceiling beams, I counted each inhale because it might quiet the storm beneath my skin. But it didn’t. I could think about nothing but Rona

I woke up before the sun, the air still soft with that pale blue that comes right before daylight cuts in. For a few seconds, I didn’t know where I was. My mind reached for the familiar weight of a blanket, the sound of dorm pipes creaking, the smell of Hawthorne’s stone and old pine. Instead, I smelled moss. Wet earth. Kellan’s skin. And then every memory from last night hit me in one long, crushing wave. We’d had sex. Not frantic fumbling or half-clothed or stopping before we crossed some invisible line. Real sex. His body under mine, and both of us tangled up until everything else fell away. And we’d fallen asleep out here like idiots, naked and tangled together on damp moss, his thigh thrown over mine like he owned the right to touch me in his sleep. I didn’t move. For a long moment, I just watched him. His face was relaxed, mouth soft and parted in a way that made my chest feel too full. His curls had fallen over his forehead again. The early light caught the faint bru

The suit swung from the side of my armoire, mocking me. Deep crimson, slashed with black geometric patterns, velvet lapels, the kind you’d expect to find on a stage magician or a prince trying too hard. It was undoubtedly expensive. Mother only sent things like this when she was trying to make a point. There was a vest to match and a crisp white shirt underneath, the buttons mother-of-pearl, as sharp and stiff as her smile. Pants were tailored black, of course, because she thought I’d just pop that damn thing on without question, like I was still her shiny little pawn. I curled my lip and leaned back against the headboard, arms crossed tight over my chest. The fire crackled a few feet away, and for a long second, I considered tossing the whole thing in. Let the silk and velvet catch and watch it shrink to nothing, along with the rest of my so-called legacy. But I didn’t. Because of him. Kellan. The son of a bitch had burrowed under my skin with that slow, steady way of his,