His to Ruin

Driveways and Dead Ends

The waiter came over with the bill, but Alec raised a hand without looking up. A small gesture, but enough to make the man in uniform turn around without a word, leaving us once again in a dining room that was slowly emptying.

I decided to move to the seat Darren had been in earlier, because it felt suffocating having the man who had been chasing me all this time sitting right next to me. Too much.

Alec leaned back in his chair, one arm draped over the backrest, the other toying with a silver spoon, spinning it between his fingers like an old habit he deliberately kept. The light from the chandelier glinted softly off the metal and in his eyes.

“Darren seems like a nice guy,” he said at last, unhurried. His voice was flat, almost lazy. But every word was delivered with the precision of a scalpel. “Chill. Friendly. Talks too much.”

I sat back down. My heart was still trying to settle into a steady rhythm, but I didn’t show it.

“He’s a professional,” I replied shortly, reaching for the rest of my water.

Alec leaned further back. His shirt shifted with him. The gray linen fell perfectly on his hard, sculpted frame, like it was made just for him. The top button was still undone, showing a hint of chest that looked too clean for someone as dangerous as him. He looked like a man on the cover of a business magazine… with a dark history no one had proven yet.

“Of course,” he said softly. “But he called you Dani.”

I held my breath for a second. “It’s a nickname,” I said, not wanting to get caught. “Just a thing at the office.”

Alec didn’t answer right away. He just looked at me, calm, like he was waiting for me to explain more than I had to.

“Funny,” he said eventually, the silver spoon now still between his fingers. “People don’t give out nicknames for no reason. It takes a level of closeness, or at least... a sense of possession. Even on the most superficial level.”

I slowly looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “Are you trying to investigate, or just annoy me?”

He smiled. Not wide, but enough to make me want to leave the room.

“You’re always easy to rattle when you feel cornered,” he said gently. “That hasn’t changed.”

I wanted to say something, but no words felt sharp enough to bounce off Alec’s calm. Because he wasn’t attacking. He was just sitting there, speaking and every word felt like a spiderweb clinging to your skin before you realized too late it was there.

“Are you serious about that project?” he asked again, his tone lighter now. “Permanent branch, your own design team, real responsibilities… going back to work. In this city...?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I need this.”

“For Abraham?”

“For myself, too.”

Alec tilted his head. “You can rebuild your life, but don’t think you can hide the old parts. This city doesn’t forget. People don’t forget. I don’t forget.”

I looked at him. “I’m not asking you to forget.”

He gave a short, dry laugh. “Good,” he said. “Because I can’t.”

We went quiet for a while. He set the spoon back on the table with a soft metallic clink.

Then he leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping low. Personal. “If he touches you, I want to know.”

My heart dropped into my chest. “What?”

“Darren.” His eyes didn’t leave mine. “If he touches you, even just touches... I want to know.”

I let out a dry laugh, though there was nothing funny about it. “Why? You planning to send flowers?”

“No,” Alec said quietly. “I just need to know if I should wash the blood off my hands that night.”

I didn’t say anything.

The world around us kept moving plates cleared away, a waiter refilling glasses at the next table. But I didn’t hear any of it.

Just the ticking of the clock… and the man in front of me who, despite all the mistakes and sins of the past, still knew exactly how to make me forget how to breathe.

:::

The drive home was wrapped in silence. Not the awkward or waiting-to-explode kind but thick silence.

Like the air between two tall buildings: unmoving, but heavy with pressure. Alec drove without a word, his eyes on the road, hands steady on the wheel. Now and then, a red light stopped us, and I could feel his eyes glance over. Not to speak just to check that I was still in the passenger seat, still breathing, still trapped in his orbit, just so he could destroy me later.

When the mansion gates opened automatically, the car rolled slowly into the front yard. The grass was neatly trimmed, stretching out to the small garden on the right side of the house and there was Abraham.

His blue jacket stood out under the evening light, his small body running laps around the fountain, laughing. Tony stood a few feet away. As always, silent. Arms crossed over his chest, posture solid like a royal guard statue.

But something in the way he turned his head to follow Abraham’s movements... told me that man, in his own way, was watching over the boy with more than just a sense of duty.

Abraham paused, then pointed at something in the sky, maybe a bird. Then he started explaining something to Tony, going on and on, his hands waving with excitement, even though Tony didn’t respond. Tony’s silence seemed to be enough to make Abraham feel heard.

I exhaled softly. My body sank into the seat, relief and exhaustion blending into a feeling I couldn’t quite name.

Alec turned off the engine. He didn’t get out right away. “He’s already treating Tony like his toy robot,” he said flatly, almost lazily. “I’m guessing it’s only a matter of time before he asks him to learn how to dance.”

I let out a small smile without realizing, but didn’t turn to look at him. “Can Tony dance?” I asked, still watching the garden.

“If Abraham’s the one asking, maybe,” Alec replied, opening the door.

I stepped out slowly, my feet touching the gravel of the driveway that shimmered in the late afternoon light.

Abraham waved from a distance, his shout drifting lightly through the air. “Mommy!”

I raised a hand in return, but my eyes stayed fixed on that small figure. The only reason I was still holding on in this place.

My steps slowed as Abraham ran toward me, his face glowing like always. His blue jacket was a little dirty at the elbows, and dried leaves clung to his hair. But his eyes—God, those eyes were full of life untouched by anything dark.

“Mommyyy!” he yelled, his little arms wide open.

I crouched down, and before I could react, his body crashed into my hug. He felt heavier than the last time I carried him.

“Jeez, you’re like a sack of rice,” I muttered as I slowly stood up, settling him on my hip. “How much do you weigh now, huh?”

“Forty pounds!” he said proudly.

I chuckled softly. “That’s adult weight, kiddo.”

“Tony said I’m strong because I can run around the garden three times. But he doesn’t run. He just walks really slow, like a zombie!”

Behind Abraham’s back, I glanced at Tony still standing stone-still at the edge of the garden. The man didn’t move at all. Not even a blink.

“A zombie?” I asked while brushing dust off Abraham’s cheek.

“Yeah. But a nice zombie. He doesn’t eat brains. He just drinks coffee.” Abraham nodded like he was delivering an important report.

“Oh, of course. A coffee zombie. Rare species.”

“I also taught Tony the ‘guess the sound’ game. But he always says ‘silence.’ So I always win!”

I bit back a smile that came without warning.

“I saw a blue bird earlier too! Maybe it was an alien bird. I named it Zing. Zing’s on a secret mission from Pluto to collect leaves. But I didn’t tell Tony. He might be a spy.”

“Tony’s an alien spy?” I asked dramatically.

“Shh!” Abraham placed a finger on my lips. “Don’t say it too loud. He can hear even when he’s quiet.”

I pretended to be scared. “Oh no. Sorry.”

We reached the porch, and I could feel my hips starting to complain. Abraham’s weight was no joke now, but he still clung to my neck, not ready to let go.

“And then, Mommy, I built a secret base behind the tree. Tony can’t go in because the door’s only for kids. The rule’s written on a rock.”

“Oh, of course,” I said, holding my breath. “A rock contract. Totally legally binding.”

He nodded seriously, then suddenly rested his cheek on my shoulder. “Mommy…” he whispered.

I tensed. That tone usually came right before a tough question... or a weird request.

“I’m hungry.”

I sighed. “You literally just reported eating two sandwiches and a banana.”

“It’s evening now. That means it’s evening mealtime. That’s the rule in my world,” he said quickly, like he’d rehearsed it.

“And what do aliens from Pluto usually eat for evening meals?”

Abraham lifted his head, eyes sparkling. “Pizza. But triangle-shaped. Not round. Round is boring.”

I shook my head slightly as I walked inside, his body still dangling from my hip.

“Then the alien from Pluto has to help Mommy cook triangle pizza. But no too many rules, okay? This house already has enough silent zombies.”

“Promise,” he said quickly. “But… can we add extra cheese?”

I sighed, already knowing I was going to give in.

“Double cheese. But you have to get down now. Mommy’s hips aren’t a planet you can live on forever.”

He giggled as he slid down, his small feet hitting the floor. “Roger that, Commander Mommy. Alien ready to cook!”