Chapter 30
THIRTY
Ruin
I can’t fucking focus. And I know it’s my own damn fault for even asking that question last night.
My chest hasn’t eased since Bel’s words lodged themselves in there—sharp, immovable.
All I wanted was to see Charlotte. Just… see her.
I went to her apartment first. Knocked. Waited. Nothing.
So I went to Wolf’s office next. He told me she’d been there. With Ryder. Said the conversation had gone sideways—ugly, messy. Things he never meant for her to hear. But she did.
And I’d been losing my damn mind ever since, wondering how she took it.
Fuck.
When I didn’t find either of them inside the clubhouse, I figured they’d be out back.
What I didn’t expect was Bel slamming straight into me near the yard door.
She was shaking. Actually shaking. Eyes wide and unfocused.
Like she’d seen something she couldn’t process.
My entire body went on alert in a second.
Every worst-case scenario firing at once.
But nothing could’ve prepared me for what came out of her mouth.
??????
“Whoa!” I grunt, my hands coming up automatically to steady her shoulders.
“S-Sorry.”
I lean back, frowning. “Bel? You okay?”
“I… yeah. I-I’m fine,” she says too quickly.
She’s not fine. Her face is drained of color. Hair a mess. Breath uneven like she just ran from something. My gut twists hard.
“What the hell?” I mutter, already scanning the darkness beyond her. My hand brushes the gun at my waist without thinking. “What did you see?” I ask, voice sharp now. “What’s wrong?”
She finally looks at me. But her eyes flit about, unsteadily. They keep darting over my shoulder, back toward the yard. Like she’s afraid to look for too long.
“N-Nothing,” she croaks. “I just… forgot something in the infirmary. I gotta go.”
I grab her elbow, stopping her before she can bolt. “Bel. Look at me.”
She does.
“What happened?” I press.
Silence.
Then I push—too hard, too fast. “Isabelle, answer me. You look—listen, if you saw something, you need to tell me.”
She flinches, and I immediately feel like a fucking asshole.
She swallows hard, throat working like it hurts. Then something in her shifts, like a switch flips. Her shoulders square and her face goes blank. Controlled.
“I just saw Charlotte outside,” she says, voice unnaturally even. “Making out with Ryder. I wasn’t expecting to see that, so yeah—I’m a little shaken, okay?”
I don’t respond. My tongue settling heavy in my mouth.
“Can I go now, Mr. Vice President?”
Before I can process her words—before I can even fucking blink at the blatant disrespect—she’s gone. Leaving me standing there.
Staring at the dark stretch of the club yard.
Charlotte.
Making out.
Ryder.
The words don’t even land properly. They just… float. Hollow.
I press my palm flat against my chest, like I can force myself to feel something normal. Something that makes sense. Something besides the scorching heat of jealousy.
This is what I prepared for, right? I knew she deserved better. Better than me. Better than the self-loathing, fucked-up bastard who wore the face of her trauma every single day. Hell, I am her trauma.
So why does it feel like something just caved in?
And out of everyone—
Ryder?
When I hear footsteps in the grass, coming closer, I don’t wait to see who it is.
I turn, bolting out of there. Because I can’t stand here and watch it.
The aftermath. There’s probably a flush in her cheeks I’ve been yearning to be the cause of.
Her lips are probably a swollen, bitten mess because of… him.
Fuck. I definitely can’t stand here and pretend I’m okay.
Did his hands tangle in her soft, thick waves? Did he grab her waist—pressing her soft body against him?
Bile rises in my throat and I’m stumbling over my feet as I sprint. I make it to my office—my sad excuse of a living space—and shut the door behind me like that’ll fix anything. Like it’ll quiet the noise in my head.
It doesn’t. Because the truth sits there, ugly and unavoidable.
I lost her.
And the worst part?
I never even fucking had her to begin with.
??????
“You even listenin’?”
His lips move. Those same fucking lips. The ones Bel said were on Charlotte just last night.
God.
How the hell am I supposed to work with the fucker when that’s all I can see?
“I am,” I bite out, forcing the words past the acid crawling up my throat. “Just… how efficient would the protocols be?”
It’s a useless, mindless question. A pathetic attempt to sound like I give a damn about anything other than the image stuck in my head. Image I didn’t even actually see.
Ryder frowns at me, catching the edge in my tone. “I’m coordinating with Bug on this, Ruin,” he says evenly. “The armories…” His voice dips lower, more serious now, “will be protected at all costs.”
I nod, eyes glued to my laptop. Anything to avoid looking at him. Anything to stop myself from doing something I won’t be able to take back.
A heavy knock lands on my door.
“Yeah,” I call out.
Scar strolls in, his gaze immediately catching on the couch—my bed. His grin spreads mercilessly.
“Christ, Ruin.” He chuckles. “That even comfortable?”
I roll my eyes, snapping my attention back to the screen. Words blur. Numbers mean nothing.
“Hey,” he continues, dropping into the chair beside Ryder. “Why don’t you move upstairs? The room opposite Charlotte’s old one is empty now.”
Ryder goes rigid.
“Nah, I’m good,” I mutter at the same time he blurts—
“Empty?”
Scar shrugs, casually. “Yeah. That club girl—Bel—left. Misty moved into Charlotte’s old room, so hers is free now.”
“What do you mean left?” Ryder’s voice cracks sharp and sudden, all his earlier calm gone. My eyes narrow at the sudden shift.
Scar blinks. “Uh… brother? She left the club. Hence—empty room?”
The chair scrapes violently against the floor as Ryder shoots to his feet. “She left the club? What do you mean she left the club?!”
Scar stands too, hands lifting slightly.
“Ryder—”
“I don’t know,” Scar says, cutting me off, confusion bleeding into his tone. “Christ, relax. Wolf handles this shit.”
“She left?” Ryder whispers, the anger draining out of him just as fast as it came.
I frown, trying to make sense of his reaction. Then Scar opens his mouth again—careless as ever.
“What the fuck, Ry? Don’t tell me you’re still not over that slut. It’s been two years, brother.”
I go still. My gaze snaps to Ryder.
Him and… Bel?
Suddenly, her reaction from last night begins to make more sense.
“Ryder,” I say, voice low, controlled. “What is he talking about?”
He doesn’t answer. Just stands there, staring at nothing. Shaking his head faintly, like he’s trying to wake himself up. “Left as in… left?” he asks hoarsely, looking at Scar. “You sure?”
Scar’s expression softens, something like pity creeping in. “Man, I don’t know the details, okay? Wolf might. All I know is she packed up and left this afternoon.”
Ryder’s chest starts heaving. Each breath rougher than the last.
“Wolf’s in his office,” Scar adds quietly. “He’d know if you wanna…”
Ryder doesn’t wait. He kicks the chair out of his way and bolts. Gone before either of us can say another word.
The door slams behind him. Silence settles heavy in its wake.
“You know what that’s about?” I ask Scar who is still staring at the closed door.
Scar exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “They… hooked up. Two years ago. For a few months. That’s all I know.” He hesitates. “Didn’t realize he was still… is he gonna be okay?”
I drag a hand down my face.
I didn’t know. Didn’t see it. Then again, Ryder’s always been closer to Scar and Healer. Keeps his shit tight.
“I’m not sure,” I mumble.
Scar’s shoulders sag a fraction, eyes narrow in thought. Then he huffs lightly. “Well, I hope Wolf is actually free to answer his petty questions. I saw a DND sign hanging over his doorknob.”
I curse under my breath. He’s right. We don’t have time for this. Not now. Not when everything’s already hanging by a thread.
“I’ll go check on him,” I mutter, already moving.
If I’m not wrong, Wolf’s been buried in calls with Tudor since morning. While simultaneously digging into the Ro?ca family with Bug’s help. He told me to handle the armories with Ryder.
Fuck.
What a timing. I shove the door open and head out, tension coiling tight in my chest. We can’t have two brothers distracted, dammit.
Not with all this going on.