Page 45 of Whispers of Ruin

I hesitate. The thought of Julian’s things, the mess of him that still clings to that place feels like a burden on my chest.

“Yeah. I need to get his stuff out. I can’t have his ghost haunting in the background, not when… everything is changing.”

I meet his eyes for a moment, challenging him to question it. Xan’s smirk is back, that dark, confident expression I have come to expect from him even through his mask.

“You want me to come with you? Make sure things don’t get… complicated?”

I raise an eyebrow at him, fighting the smile that wants to creep up.

“You mean you want to come for the fun of it, don’t you?”

He shrugs, unbothered. “It’s not every day I get to watch you clean up after your little shitty ex. I’d call it a sport if I wasn’t already busy with more important things.”

I roll my eyes, but cannot help the amusement that flickers in me.

“Fine. But you will have to stay still while I actually do the cleaning. No way I’m letting you touch anything. Especially not his stuff.”

Xan leans forward, suddenly quieter, more serious.

“You’re not really going to let her in on all this,are you? Zoey, I mean. It’s too much. If she finds out the truth… well, let’s just say we don’t need to add another loose end to tie up.”

I feel a flash of anger.

“She’s my best friend, Xan. Ignoring her is not an option.”

“I’m not saying you should. But you need to keep a tight grip on what you tell her. Things are already fucked enough.”

I look at him, frustration rising.

“I know what I’m doing, Xan. I’m not some naïve idiot.”

He leans back again, watching me like he’s waiting for me to crack. “We’ll see,” he mutters, the sharpness in his gaze never leaving mine.

How fucking dare he?

“I swear to God, Xan—try me. I am not in the mood to be disrespected, not by you, not by anyone,” I respond with fury—barely leashed, seconds from snapping.

I am not stupid, geez. I am fully aware I cannot let a soul know too much.

“Alright,” I finally say, standing up and pulling my coat tighter around me. “I’ll call Zoey and I will get this done. But I’m not doing it alone.” I look at Xan. “So, you can either stay out of the way or come along for the ride. I don’t care.”

He smirks, clearly enjoying this. “You’ll have to take me along then. Would not miss it for the world. Can’t wait to piss on his pillow.”

I roll my eyes, though part of me braces—because I know he’s joking. At least, I hope he is. Xan rises too, stretching his arms high above his head—damn it, I catch myself admiring all the way down to the sharp V of his lower abdomen disappearing beneath his waistband.

Despite the attitude problem, the god complex, and the overall infuriating aura, he somehow manages to redirect my focus to his redeeming qualities… like being a fiercely protective menace and a walking, talking, brooding human red flag with muscles.

“Careful, soon I’ll have to call youlittle Saint Bernard.”

I narrow my eyes, completely baffled. What the hell is he talking about now?

“You’re drooling all over the place.”

I cannot even respond, he is driving me crazy—though I cannot decide if it is because he has nailed me so perfectly, or because he is just utterly ridiculous.

I turn to continue walking. Before I can even process what is happening, he slaps my ass with a laugh that is so effortlessly carefree, so damn normal. Like we are not two people caught in a chaotic mess, but a couple heading out for a peaceful walk to pick up our two kids from school, hand in hand, strolling back to our cute cottage tucked away from this fucked up world.

The ease with which he does it catches me off guard completely. For a split second, my brain goes blank. I am unsure how to respond. Still, as far-fetched as it sounds, that fleeting image of quiet domesticity does not feel entirely unwelcome.

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