Page 58 of Whispers of Ruin

Oh God, I did.

I am still standing there, half-dressed, fingers ghosting over my neck. When I hear the soft click of the door, I spin.

There he is. Leaning against the frame like he owns the air in the room. Black shirt. Dark eyes. That same maddening calm stretched over something entirely unhinged. His gaze drops to my throat—just for a second, he sees my neck. He knows. He smiles. I can tell by the look in his eyes. A knowing, dangerous smile that makes the mark on my skin burn hotter.

“Morning, little fox,” he says roughly from sleep or smoke or maybe both. He steps closer, slowly, as if I’ll bolt.

“What… what happened last night,” I breathe. “Was it real?”

He stops inches away, looking down at me.

“You tell me,” he murmurs, lifting a hand, just to hover right over the fading imprint he left behind.

“I did not dream that,” I whisper.

“No,” he says. “You did not.”

My knees almost buckle. “I—Julian—”

“Gone,” he cuts in, gently but firmly. “You don’t need to think about that coward hurting you anymore.”

Gone?Howgone?

I stare at him. At the man who turned my world inside out and made me want it that way. Xan’s gaze switches heavier, an ominous shadow passing over his features as he locks eyes with me. His expression says it all—he knows exactly what lurks behind my silence. He knows what I’m feeling, even when I cannot bring myself to voice it. The anxiety. The doubt…

“You want to know what happened to your ex,huh?” he leans in slightly, as though waiting for permission to continue.

I clench my fists. It is hard to admit, but I need to know.

“Yes,” I whisper, my throat tight. “I really need to know.”

“The Order doesn’t do things delicately, Mira,” he says with a touch of sarcasm. “Especially when it comes to a scum like Beckett.”

His fingers briefly graze the mark on my neck as he leans back, his eyes dark with something unreadable as he studies me.

“Julian’s body… Let’s say it’s dealt with,” Xan continues in a low measured tone. “He won’t be found. The Order and I made sure of it.”

I am not certain whether I should feel relieved or horrified. The idea of his body disappearing, of everything vanishing without a trace, makes my stomach twist. It should becomforting—knowing that whatever happened, whatever he deserved, is gone. Still a part of me, the part I cannot quite silence, feels… wrong. There is no closure. No finality. Xan watches my reaction closely.

“You’re quiet,” he remarks. “Did you really think we would just leave the mess?”

I hesitate, my mind racing, trying to process everything. His words are like a cold splash of water, and yet… there is something strangely reassuring in the way he speaks about it. As though violence was just another part of their world, one I’d been unwilling to face until now.

“I didn’t expect… I… I don’t know what I expected actually,” I say, my voice cracking slightly. “I just… I thought it would be harder. I thought… there would be more to it. I don’t know.”

He steps closer, the heat of his body warming the space between us. Gently, his hand comes up to touch my face, his thumb brushing against my cheek tenderly.

“Well, if you need to know more, Mira, let me help you,” he retorts. “Are you aware of what hydrochloric acid does? Do you know it can make absolutelyanythingdisappear? It doesn’t explode. It just—melts everything. Metal, wood,flesh—it doesn’t care. It seeps in, burns through, turning skin to pulp, bone to mush. One second, something’s whole, and the next, it’s reduced to nothing but a puddle, a mass of liquefied remains. No scream. No blood. Just the slow, agonizing disappearance into nothingness.”

My gut clenches with dread.

“I’m not saying that’s what happened. I’m just stating a fact. Purely educational, really.”

A ghost of a smirk tugs in his eyes. He knows how fucked up it sounds—and he is enjoying every second of my reaction.

“Listen, you have been in this world only for a short moment,” Xan murmurs gentle now, the sarcasm gone. “But enough for you to have seen things. Done things. This… this is just another part of it. Another step you have to take.”

No response comes to mind. Part of me wants to escape this new life, to flee the blood, the violence that is supposed to become so normal. However, another part—the part that is connected to him, the part that is terrified of facing the truth—knows that I can’t. Not anymore.

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