Page 246 of Ruins
The moment is perfect. Blissful. Until a voice ruins everything.
“Ugh, that’s disgusting,” comes my sister’s unmistakable voice.
We both freeze, turning to see Elena standing in the threshold of the kitchen with her hand up to shield her eyes like she’s been personally offended by the sight of us. Behind her, Riot stands with a smirk plastered on his stupid fucking face.
A rush of possessiveness surges through me, instinctive and immediate. I step in front of Vasilisa, blocking Riot’s line of sight to her. He shouldn’t be looking at her. No one should.
“Get the fuck out of here, Riot,” I snap, my voice low, dangerous.
He chuckles like the asshole he is but lifts his hands in surrender and saunters out, all too amused with himself. I watch him go, jaw clenched, before turning my attention to Elena, still lingering with an attitude like she owns the place.
“Why are you here?” My voice is clipped, my irritation bubbling just below the surface.
I should be happy she’s back. I should be relieved. But her timing is fucking terrible, and I’m still wound tight from the interruption.
Elena raises a brow, unimpressed. “I came home since no one thought to tell me our father almost died.”
Her tone is pure Elena—sharp, challenging, and laced with attitude. Hands on her hips, she glares at me like I’m the one who’s wrong for not rolling out the red carpet for her grand return.
I scoff. “Oh, sonowyou care to come home? We didn’t think you gave a fuck about Dad, considering you didn’t even bother after you almost got taken.”
Elena grimaces, clearly unbothered by my fury. “Ew, if you’re going to yell at me, at least put on a shirt.”
I take a threatening step forward, my patience already razor-thin. “This is my fucking house. I want my key back.”
She folds her arms, not backing down. “No. You gave it to me.”
“In case ofemergency.”
“Dad in the hospital constitutes an emergency.”
“Why didn’t you go to Angelo’s?”
“I did,” she says, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “But I wanted to meet your wife.”
At that, I feel Vasilisa shift behind me, peeking out from where she’s been pressed against my back.
Elena’s gaze flicks to her, lips curling slightly before she lifts a hand in a small wave.
Vasilisa hesitates but waves back.
I groan, already seeing where this is going. “Don’t encourage her, Vasilisa.”
Vasilisa
I peer over Santo’s shoulder. The pretty brunette still stands there, watching me.
She’s a striking combination of her two brothers—dark-haired and sharp-featured. But her eyes, a warm light brown, soften her overall appearance, giving her an air of quiet observation rather than cold intensity.
Her clothes are effortlessly expensive, her hair sleek and styled, and even though Santo is practically growling at her, she seems entirely unbothered. She exudes an air of sophistication that tells me she’s used to commanding a room without needing to raise her voice.
She meets my eyes, and I instinctively sink back behind Santo, half-hidden by his broad frame.
At the mention of my name, her lips twitch. “Vasilisa?” she repeats, her tone laced with curiosity.
Santo grunts, muttering something under his breath, before turning toward me. Before I can process what’s happening, he scoops me up, arms firm around me, and strides toward the pantry.
I blink, startled. “Santo—”
