Ruin Me, Alpha-Chapter 51: Beautiful Ruin

DEVON

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed seven times.

Precise.

I liked precision. It was the only thing I could control in a world that insisted on resetting itself every time I was killed by the woman I loved.

I stood by the head of the mahogany dining table, pouring a glass of dark red Cabernet. The liquid swirled against the crystal, blood-red and rich. I didn’t drink immediately. I just watched the double doors at the far end of the room.

They opened.

The air in the room shifted instantly. It wasn’t just a change in pressure; it was a shift in gravity.

Irene stood in the doorway.

I had ordered the dress myself, a calculated move. It was black, sleeveless, with a plunging neckline that stopped dangerously low, exposing the creamy skin of her chest. The fabric clung to her curves like a second skin, spilling down to the floor in a pool of midnight silk. Against the black, her red hair was a violent explosion of color, cascading over her shoulders like fire.

She looked like ruin.

She looked like my end.

I took a sip of wine, masking the way my pulse jumped in my throat.

"You’re on time," I said, setting the glass down. "I appreciate punctuality."

She didn’t move. She stood there, her hands clenched at her sides, her amber eyes burning holes into my skull.

"I hope the food is poisoned," she said. Her voice was steady, despite the fear I knew was thrumming through her veins.

"It isn’t," I replied, gesturing to the spread of roasted venison and glazed vegetables. "If I wanted to kill you, Irene, I wouldn’t use poison. It’s too impersonal. I’d want to watch the light leave your eyes myself."

"You’re sick."

"I’m honest. There’s a difference." I looked her up and down, letting my gaze drag over the exposed skin of her chest, lingering there intentionally. "You look gorgeous. The dress suits you. It reminds me of mourning clothes, which is fitting, considering the mood."

She glared, her lip curling in a snarl. Then, with a defiant jerk of her chin, she raised her hand and flipped me off.

"Go to hell, Devon."

"I’m already there," I smirked. "Sit down."

She marched into the room, her heels clicking sharply against the hardwood floor. She ignored the chair to my right and walked to the opposite end of the long table. She pulled out the chair, the wood scraping loudly against the floor, and sat down, putting twenty feet of polished wood between us.

I sighed. "Petty."

"I prefer ’sensible,’" she shot back, grabbing the napkin and snapping it onto her lap. "I don’t want to smell your cologne. It makes me want to vomit."

"Liar," I said smoothly. "You were breathing it in just fine this morning when my tongue was in your mouth."

Her face flushed, a beautiful shade of crimson that clashed perfectly with her hair. She gripped the silverware so hard her knuckles turned white.

"Come here," I commanded.

"No."

"Irene."

"I said no. If you want to eat with me, you’ll have to shout."

I didn’t shout. I didn’t even raise my voice. I just picked up my wine glass and walked toward her. The sound of my footsteps was heavy and deliberate. I saw her stiffen as I approached, her body locking up, preparing for a fight.

I didn’t stop until I was standing right next to her. I loomed over her chair, casting my shadow over her plate.

"Move," I said.

"Make me."

I placed one hand on the back of her chair and the other on the table, boxing her in. I leaned down, bringing my face close to her ear. I could smell the vanilla soap the maids had given her, mixed with the sharp, metallic scent of her fear.

"Do not test me tonight," I whispered, my voice vibrating against her skin. "I have killed men for looking at you the wrong way. Do you think I won’t drag you to that other chair myself? I’m trying to be civil, Irene. Don’t make me be the monster you think I am."

She turned her head, her nose inches from mine. The hatred in her eyes was so potent I could taste it. It was intoxicating.

"You are a monster," she hissed.

But she stood up.

She shoved past me, her shoulder checking my chest hard, and stomped to the head of the table. She threw herself into the seat to my right, crossing her arms over her chest.

I walked back to my seat, satisfied.

"See? That wasn’t so hard."

I sat down and began to cut into the venison. The knife sliced through the meat with ease.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, watching my hands. She hadn’t touched her food. "Why the dress? Why the dinner? You kidnapped me, Devon. You drugged me. You ruined my engagement. Do you think a steak dinner is going to make me forget that?"

"I don’t want you to forget," I said, taking a bite. "I want you to understand. Voltage is a pawn. You were a transaction to him. To me? You are the queen on the board."

"I’m a prisoner."

"For now."

"Forever, if you have your way." She picked up her fork and stabbed a carrot with unnecessary violence. "You talk about me like you own me."

"I do."

"I hate you."

"I know." I stopped eating and turned to look at her. The candlelight flickered in her eyes. "Hate me all you want. Scream at me. Curse my name. But do not ignore me. That is the only thing I will not tolerate."

"You’re delusional," she spat. "You think because you’re strong, because you’re a Beta, you can just take what you want. But you can’t make me want you. You can’t force feelings, Devon."

I laughed, a low, dark sound. "Force? Irene, I don’t need to force anything. The chemistry between us is there. I can feel your pulse racing from here. I can smell the arousal spiking through your scent, masking the fear. You hate me, yes. But your body? Your body remembers me. Your soul recognizes me, even if your mind is too stubborn to admit it."

"My body is betraying me because of the bond," she argued, though her voice wavered slightly. "It’s biology. It’s not real."

"Everything is real," I countered. "This timeline. The last one. The next one. It doesn’t matter what version of reality we are in. I will always find you. I will always take you. And eventually, you will stop fighting and realize that the only safe place in this world is right here."

She stared at me like I was spilling crap. Maybe, I was.

I reached out, my fingers brushing the bare skin of her arm. She flinched but didn’t pull away. The contact sent a spark shooting up my arm, a reminder of the power that lay dormant between us.

"I want to do things to you," I murmured, my voice dropping. "I want to strip this dress off you and worship every inch of your skin. I want to make you scream my name until you lose your voice. I want to replace every memory of him with a memory of me."

Her breath hitched. Her pupils dilated, swallowing the amber. For a second, just a second, she leaned into my touch.

Then she snapped back to reality. She slapped my hand away.

"Why did you kill him?"

I paused. "Who?"

"Baron," she choked out, the name tearing from her throat. "My brother. Why did you kill him? He was innocent. He had nothing to do with the pack politics. He was just... a boy."

Because he murdered my mate and I. I barely made it back alive with the help of the witch and the frozen world...

I set my fork down. The atmosphere in the room turned ice cold. This was the crux of it. The origin of the hate.

But looking at the pain etched into her face, the raw agony in her eyes, I felt a twinge of something foreign. Regret? No. I didn’t regret strategy. But I hated that her pain was directed at me.

"He was in the way," I said simply, lying. I couldn’t tell her about my former mate.

"In the way?" She looked like I had slapped her. "He was my brother!"

"He was a weakness. Your father used him against the Pack. I removed the leverage."

"You’re a psychopath," she whispered, tears pooling in her eyes. "You killed him to—what? Help me? That’s your logic?"

"I did what was necessary to—"

Bang.

The double doors flew open.

A guard stumbled in, his chest heaving, his uniform disheveled. He looked terrified.

"Beta!" he gasped. "Beta, forgive the intrusion, but—"

"Speak," I commanded, not looking away from Irene.

"It’s Voltage," the guard stammered. "He’s at the front gate. He’s... he’s got an army, sir. Or a mob. He’s furious. He says if we don’t release the girl, he’s coming in."

Irene’s head snapped toward the guard. Her eyes widened, hope flooding into them.

"Voltage?" she breathed.

I picked up my napkin and wiped my mouth slowly.

"Tell him to wait," I said to the guard. "We haven’t finished dessert."

"Devon!" Irene stood up, her chair toppling over backward. "Let me go. He’s here for me."

"Sit down."

"No!" She backed away from the table. "He’s going to kill you."

I stood up. I adjusted my cuffs, smoothing out the fabric of my suit jacket.

"I’d like to see him try," I said. I walked around the table and grabbed Irene’s arm. She struggled, clawing at my hand, but I held firm. "Come on. Let’s go say hello to your fiancé."

We walked out of the private quarters, down the grand hallway, and out the massive oak front doors. The night air was cool, biting against my skin.

The driveway was a circus.

Three black SUVs were parked haphazardly on the gravel. A dozen men stood in a semi-circle, weapons drawn, silver bullets gleaming under the floodlights. In the center of them stood Voltage.

He looked ridiculous. His suit was rumpled, his face red with exertion. He was holding a handgun that looked too big for his grip.

"Warner!" Voltage screamed when he saw me. He raised the gun, aiming it squarely at my chest. "Let her go!" 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

Irene, standing slightly behind me, let out a gasp.

"Voltage!" she cried out. She tried to step forward, but I tightened my grip on her arm. "I’m here! I’m okay!"

"You bastard," Voltage spat, taking a step forward. "You crash my party, you steal my bride, and you think you can just sit here in your castle? I will burn this place down with you inside it."

My guards were already flanking me, rifles raised, wolves shifting in the shadows of the tree line. One word from me, and the snow would be painted red.

I looked at Voltage. I looked at the fear in his eyes, the way his hand shook. He didn’t love her. He was embarrassed. His ego was bruised.

Then I looked at Irene. She was staring at him like he was a savior. Like he was the white knight.

If I kept her now, I would be the jailer. She would hate me forever. She would spend every day plotting her escape, viewing Voltage as the hero who tried to save her.

But if I let her go...

"Relax, Voltage," I called out, my voice carrying easily over the distance. "No need for pyrotechnics."

"Release her!" he yelled again.

I looked down at Irene. She was looking up at me, confusion warring with the hope in her eyes. She expected me to fight. She expected me to drag her back inside and lock the door.

I released her arm.

I gave her a gentle shove toward the stairs.

"Go," I said.

Irene stumbled, catching her balance. She froze, turning to look at me, her mouth slightly open.

"What?"

"You heard him," I said, sliding my hands into my pockets. "He wants you back. Go to him."

"You’re... letting me go?"

"I’m bored," I lied. My heart was hammering against my ribs, screaming at me to grab her, to claim her, to never let her leave. "You’re loud, you don’t eat your vegetables, and you have terrible taste in men. Honestly, Irene, you’re more trouble than you’re worth."

She stared at me, searching for the trick.

"Go!" I roared.

She flinched, then turned and ran.

She sprinted down the stairs, her black dress billowing behind her like smoke. She ran across the gravel, toward the man who claimed to love her.

Voltage looked stunned. He lowered his gun slightly, watching her run to him. He didn’t step forward to meet her. He waited until she reached him, then grabbed her arm roughly, pulling her behind him as if using her as a shield.

"This isn’t over, Warner!" Voltage shouted, backing toward his SUV.

"It never is," I muttered to myself.

Irene paused at the door of the SUV. She looked back. Across the distance, across the guards and the guns and the gravel, our eyes locked.

She looked confused. She looked... disappointed?

Then Voltage shoved her into the car and slammed the door.

The engines roared to life. Tires spun on the loose stone, spraying dust into the air. The convoy peeled out of the driveway, disappearing into the darkness of the night.

I stood there on the steps, alone.

I learnt yesterday about my relationship with Irene. Both in this timeline and the real timeline—the hatred mixed with love became a very dangerous spark. Her love for me made her break into the frozen world. My love for her made me break into her loop.

Her love for me would make her love me in a different timeline where she was never meant to love me.

She will come back like she had always done.