The Ruins By Scott Smith Novels & Stories

Secrets in the Ruins The quiet was the first thing I did. Not the soft hush of the forest, but the kind that pushed into your bones, heavy and unnatural. My breath came short as the half-brother led me deeper into the ruins, crumbling stone walls, broken columns, moss twisting over the ground like veins. “This place feels… alive,” I whispered, shaking even though the air was warm. He glanced at me, a half-smile that carried too much sadness. “It should. Once, it was more than stone. It was where we dreamed of a future.”

That word still feels foreign on my tongue. Ruin leads me into the clubhouse, but it isn’t what I expect there is no chaos or clutter. The space is large and open, built from stone and steel, but softened by the warmth of low lighting, worn leather couches, the faint scent of cedar and smoke. It smells like a pack and that makes my omega stir, uneasy but curious. “You’ll stay here tonight,” Ruin says, gesturing down a quiet hallway. “In the same hallway, close to us.”

The ruins of Echo’s heart spread around them like the skeletal remains of a dead cathedral. Walls of black glass jutted upward like the ribs of some long-buried beast, cracked and glittering in the broken light of storm clouds overhead. The air reeked of ozone and scorched metal, the silence beneath it broken only by the slow groan of fallen beams, the faint hiss of dying wires sparking in the dust.

The Sanchiano estate was no longer the grand fortress it once had been. What remained were crumbling stone arches, fragments of marble statues, and scorched walls, relics of wars fought both in the open and in shadows. Yet tonight, those ruins had been transformed. Silk drapes flowed across skeletal beams, chandeliers hung on chains, and candles flickered in every crevice, spilling light onto cracked stone as if to say, "even ruins can become sanctuaries of beauty."

The ruins welcomed no one. They simply endured. Broken highways stretched across the dead landscape like the ribs of some forgotten beast. Cracked buildings leaned against one another, their broken windows reflecting the last traces of sunset. Steel skeletons of old towers pierced the darkening sky while vines and moss slowly reclaimed the remains of civilization. Sera moved alone. Her boots landed soundlessly across fractured concrete, years of hunter training guiding every step. She stayed away from open streets, choosing rooftops, collapsed walls, and narrow alleyways where shadows concealed her movements.

Otherwise, I would be at a dead end. Thinking about how long I would need to stay hidden almost drove me crazy. I needed to get my life back as soon as possible. While going through the dusty things in the apartment – things that some old resident had left behind – I found an old notebook, with the pages intact. I had a pen too, so I started writing to Aurora. — I miss you, like a prisoner misses his freedom. I dream of the day when I will see you again and be able to walk by your side, in peace…

“You just made yourself his enemy.” After school, Robert drives me back to the mansion and the ache comes out of nowhere that I wonder if mom’s also thinking about me, wherever she is or if she ever regrets leaving. Robert notices my silence. “You okay back there, Miss June?” “Fine.” I lie, staring out the window at the manicured lawns and perfect hedges that line the estate. He gives me a look in the rearview mirror before pulling up to the service entrance. As I take the stairs down to the main floor, intending to slip out to the gardens as I discovered a quiet corner behind the rose bushes where no one could bother me but voices stop me in my tracks.

ROMAN ______ I stood in the ruins of my fortress, watching as the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, painting the destruction in a sickly golden hue. The metallic stench of blood hung thick in the air, mixing with the acrid tang of smoke and the bitter scent of ash. My hands were still sticky with Cassandra's blood, though the bitch had managed to escape in the chaos. Fifteen dead.

Whatever came next… wouldn’t be built on this ruin. My steps faltered on the gravel path. Morning fog still clung to the ground, making the ruins look like a breath the world hadn’t finished exhaling. The smell of wet dirt and ash hung in the air. In my hand, the lilies had begun to wilt—as if they understood we were running out of time. This altar once bound souls. Now it was just broken wood and cold stone. I stood among the wreckage, my heart refusing to settle. The wind shifted. Not a breeze. A breath.

Bodies lay scattered, weapons abandoned, and structures damaged. Ruin had not held back. “He is not just dismantling them,” Axel said quietly. “He is erasing them.” “Yes,” I replied. And then we heard a gunshot; it was close, followed by another. We moved toward the sound faster and closer until we reached the center of the main structure. The heart of it all, the doors stood open, broken and forced. We stepped inside. The silence hit first. Then I smell of metal, smoke, and blood. My chest tightened as we moved deeper. “Ruin,” I called. No answer came; we reached the main hall. And then I saw him standing in the center of the room, breathing hard, covered in blood that was not all his but a