Ruin Me Gently

Chapter 9

-Hazel-

The warehouse lights flickered overhead—cold, white fluorescence buzzing in the silence.

I sat at the long table, removing my earrings like armor. My heels were already off. My lipstick, smeared.

He stood across from me, arms crossed. Watching. Silent.

"You kissed him."

My fingers froze.

I didn't look up. "You knew that would happen eventually."

"No," he said sharply. "Not like that. Not like you meant it."

I finally raised my gaze to meet his. The man who'd pulled me from the ashes. The only one who knew the weight of my real name. The one who buried the girl I used to be and helped birth the woman sitting here now.

"Don't romanticize it," I said coldly. "It was leverage."

"Bullshit."

His voice cracked like a whip.

He stepped closer, his boots heavy on the concrete floor. "You were breathing like a girl in love, Sable. You leaned into him."

I stared at him—this man who had burned so many bridges for me, lied for me, bled for me. And yet, in this moment, he felt like a wall I hadn't prepared to hit.

"You said you wanted to destroy him," he said. "You said you wanted him broken. Humbled. Brought to his knees like he brought you to yours."

"And I still do."

"Then act like it."

His fury wasn't loud. It was controlled. Worse.

"You're slipping," he said, voice low now. "You're letting the memories get too comfortable. You think he's the same boy who left you behind, but he's not. And you're not that girl anymore."

I stood. Slowly.

"I know who I am," I said.

"No. You know who you want to be," he snapped. "But she's cracking. Every time you look at him, you hesitate. Don't forget—he's one of them. You didn't come back to fall in love again, Sable. You came back to finish what they started."

The room pulsed with silence.

Then I exhaled. "So what do you want me to do? Snap his neck on camera? Poison his father at the next gala? Maybe I should just set the Brinchfort estate on fire and walk away laughing."

He didn't flinch.

"You're better than that. Smarter."

I walked to the window, staring out over the darkened docks. My voice softened. "He wasn't all bad. Back then."

"That's not the point."

I turned back. "Then what is?"

"That your pain is sacred," he said. "You survived something most people don't crawl out of. And I didn't spend three years helping you become untraceable, untouchable, just for you to be touched by the same hands that threw you away."

My jaw clenched.

He added, "Do you know what it did to me, watching you flatline for weeks after they sent you away? What it took to even bring you back to yourself?"

My voice broke then—quiet, but strong. "You didn't bring me back. You built someone new."

He nodded once. "Exactly."

A long pause.

Then I walked past him, grabbing the folder he'd left on the table. Inside: photos, locations, patterns. Our next mark.

"Who's next?" I asked.

He hesitated. Then answered.

"Celeste Brinchfort. She's the thread."

I raised a brow.

"She's reckless," he continued. "She's hiding something. And she's about to make a very public mistake."

I smiled faintly. "Then let's make sure it explodes."

He didn't smile back. "Promise me something first."

I looked up.

"Promise me you won't forget what they did. That you'll see this through. No matter how charming he gets."

I didn't blink.

"I never forget," I whispered. "But that doesn't mean I won't enjoy watching him fall in love with the ghost of the girl he killed."

That finally earned me a grin. Dark. Wicked.

He nodded, slowly. "There she is."