Page 60 of Whispers of Ruin

The room goes quiet. Every stare is on us now, but I refuse to look away. I cannot. Because if I do, if I show any crack in my armor, if I show the slightest sign of fear, I know exactly what will happen.

As we continue our path through the hall, I realize—he is not just protecting me. He is asserting domination, reminding them all who is in control here.

Earlier this morning, I finally gave in to Xan’s invitation to the Order. Part of me was deeply curious—curious to see the man who orchestrated everything from the shadows. The man behind the strings, the silence, the chaos. More than anything, I want to ask himwhy. Not that I expect a straight answer—men like him do not speak in truths. But maybe, just maybe, I could catch something in his words. A glimpse. A thread I could pull to make sense of it all.

According to Xan, I already have everything it takes to be accepted. He says it with such conviction as if it was already written in stone. He believes in me in a way that feels… foreign. Fierce. Loud. Much louder than the whispering doubts that have lived in me for years…

It is hard to explain what it does to a person—to be raised by a parent who clipped your wings before you even knew how to fly. To love a person who made you question every part of yourself. It carves wounds you forget are there, leaves you second-guessing even your own reflection. You call it survival. But in truth, it’s just slow erosion.

Yet—Xan sees past that, somehow. Bit by bit, he chips away at the rot they left behind and replaces it with something else. Strength. Unapologetic, sharpened strength. He is not just helping me stand. He is showing me how to rebuild. For that… I am endlessly, quietly grateful. Even if I do not know how to say it yet.

We walk past the now complete silence of the common hall, where masks follow me like shadows. Xan doesn’t say a word as he leads me down a narrow hallway, each step echoing over stone tiles. My pulse taps at my throat. It should not feel this ceremonial, and yet… it does. Like I am about to be judged, weighed, and possibly discarded.

We stop at a tall black door, aged but polished, its wood marked by time and secrets. Xan knocks once—not out of courtesy, but as a signal.

“Enter,” comes the unbothered calm voice from inside.

Xan pushes open the door and guides me in with a firm hand on my back. I barely cross the threshold before I find myself in front ofhim.

Lucian Voss.

He is standing by a floor-to-ceiling window, back turned, hands clasped behind him like he is orchestrating the entire goddamn world from that single spot. The room is lit only by the pale light of morning filtering through the window and the soft flicker of one antique lamp.

He turns slowly, his gaze landing on me. His mask is like the others, but silver, smooth and gleaming like a blade in the dark. It catches the light just enough to look alive. Behind it, hisgaze burns with a steady, merciless fire. His hair is long blond silvered, slicked back, and his suit is perfectly tailored—a dark grey three-piece that fits him like skin. His presence is utterly magnetic.

“The infamous Mira Vale,” he says smoothly.

His face remains hidden, unreadable—but I swear I can feel the daring in his tone. I nod once, doing my best not to shrink under his scrutiny.

“I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

I lift my chin with the last fragile scrap of courage I can muster.

“Then you must know I have questions.”

Lucian walks forward.

“Of course you do. Anyone worth recruiting usually does.”

Recruiting.

The word hits me in the gut. Xan shifts protectively beside me, but silent. Lucian stops a few feet in front of me.

“Before I answer anything… I want to see if you are brave enough to ask the right questions.”

Brave enough?The nerve, after all they had me endure.

“Alright then. Here’s one—how long have I been watched? Before Julian. Before Xan.”

Lucian’s eyes glint, like I have said something amusing. Or perhaps dangerous.

“A long time,” he says simply. “Longer than you’d like to believe.”

A chill snakes down my spine.

“And why me?” I ask, stepping forward before I lose my nerve. “Why keep tabs on a woman who’s never done anything extraordinary?”

Lucian’s smile sharpens, his intrigued eyes narrowing slightly.

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