HIRTY DAYS TO RUIN**
1846 Words
CHAPTER 1: THIRTY DAYS TO RUIN**
You ever walk into a room and feel the air *shift* like the universe just hit pause? That’s what happened the night they decided I was no longer off-limits.
I should’ve seen it coming. Five men, one table, and me—sandwiched between them like the main course at a predator’s banquet. Daniel’s laughing at some joke, oblivious, while Cole’s knee *finds* mine under the table for the third time. Not an accident. A *test.* And my traitorous body? Already *fucking* responding.
The dining room’s all dark wood and candlelight, the kind of place that screams *old money* and *older sins.* I’m in this black dress that hugs my curves like a second skin, the kind I’ve worn a hundred times before. But tonight? Tonight it feels like I’m *naked.* And the way their eyes keep *dipping* to my chest, then *lingering* on my lips? Yeah. They’re thinking the same damn thing.
Jax leans back in his chair, all leather jacket and bad decisions, his smirk sharp enough to cut. *"You’re quiet tonight, princess."* His voice is rough, like he’s been smoking cigarettes and sin all day. *"Something on your mind?"*
I force a shrug, but my fingers tremble around my fork. *"Just hungry."*
Micah barks out a laugh from across the table. *"Bullshit. You’re *starving.* And not for food."* His dark eyes glint with something *wicked,* and I *hate* that he’s right.
Then there’s Zane. Silent. Watching. His gray eyes are like ice—cold, calculating, *hungry.* He hasn’t said a word all night, but the way his jaw ticks every time Cole *accidentally* brushes my leg? That’s a whole *conversation* right there.
And then—*him.*
Knox.
He hasn’t even sat down yet. Just stands in the doorway like a fucking king surveying his kingdom, his black suit stretched over a body built for *ruin.* His hair’s just long enough to curl at his neck, and his eyes—*God,* his eyes are on me like I’m the only thing in the room worth looking at.
*"Thirty days,"* he says, and his voice is rough, like gravel and dark promises. Not to Daniel. Not to the others. To *me.*
My breath catches. *Thirty days.* Until I turn eighteen. Until whatever *fragile* truce they’ve had about not touching me *shatters.*
Daniel sighs, like a man who knows he’s already lost. *"Knox, not now."*
But Knox doesn’t even blink. He takes a step forward. Then another. The room *shrinks* with every inch he closes between us. My skin *burns,* my n*****s tighten under my dress, and I *hate* that my body’s already betraying me, already *wanting* what it shouldn’t.
He stops behind my chair, close enough that I can feel the heat of him at my back, smell the dark, expensive scent of him—cedar and power and *sin.* His breath ghosts over my neck when he speaks, low and rough. *"You’re not a kid anymore, little shadow."*
And *fuck,* the way he says it—like it’s a fact, like it’s a *promise,* like it’s the only thing that matters in the whole damn world. His hand lifts, and for a second, I think he’s actually gonna touch me. My whole body *tenses,* waiting for it, *craving* it.
But he doesn’t. He just lets his fingers hover there, close enough that I can feel the *f*****g* electricity between us, and then he’s moving away, leaving me *shaking.*
Daniel’s talking about pack business or some s**t, but I’m not hearing a word of it. All I can focus on is the way Cole’s foot is *brushing* mine under the table. The way Jax’s thumb is tracing lazy circles on the wood right next to my waist. The way Zane’s gaze is *burning* into me like he’s memorizing the shape of my lips. The way Micah’s smirk is *knowing,* like he can read every *dirty* thought in my head.
And Knox? Knox is *watching* me like I’m already his.
By the time dessert rolls around, I’m a live wire, every nerve ending *alight.* I excuse myself to get some water, but really, I just need *air.* Need a second to *breathe* without their eyes burning into me.
I’m filling my glass when I hear his footsteps behind me. I don’t even have to turn around to know it’s Knox. I can *feel* him, like the pull of the tide, like the *fucking* earth shifting beneath my feet.
*"You’re shaking,"* he murmurs, and his voice is dark, amused, *knowing.*
I set the glass down harder than I mean to. *"I’m fine."*
*"Liar."* His hand lands on the counter beside me, caging me in. I can see his reflection in the window—tall, broad, *hungry.* And the way he’s looking at me… *f**k,* it’s like he’s already undressing me in his mind. *"You feel it too, don’t you? The pull."*
I *should* step away. Should tell him to back the hell off. But I don’t. I just stand there, trapped between the counter and his body, my heart hammering so hard I’m surprised the whole damn house can’t hear it.
*"It’s just… a phase,"* I lie, because what the hell else am I supposed to say?
Knox laughs, low and rough, and the sound *vibrates* through me. *"Oh, little shadow."* His other hand lifts, his knuckles brushing my arm, and it’s just a *touch,* but it *burns* like a brand. *"This isn’t a phase. This is* forever.*"*
And then he’s gone, leaving me standing there, my skin on fire, my mind racing, my body *aching* with a need I don’t even understand.
Because here’s the thing—I *know* this is wrong. I *know* I should be scared, should be *running.* But all I can think about is the way his voice wrapped around those words, the way his eyes promised *ruin,* the way my whole damn body *responded* like it was made for him.
And the *worst* part?
It’s not just him.
It’s *all* of them.
And in thirty days, the world as I know it is gonna.
- Writer
