Ruin Me, Alpha-Chapter 54: The Dead Don’t Let Go

IRENE

REAL WORLD — PRESENT

Twenty-four months.

Seven hundred and thirty days.

That was how long it had been since the world stopped spinning, even though everyone else insisted it kept turning.

I sat on the edge of my bed in the North Pack guest quarters, staring at the wall. The silence was deafening. It was supposed to be peaceful. That was the lie I told myself when I walked away from the witch two years ago. She had given me the choice: enter the loop, enter his hell, and fight for him, or walk away and live.

I chose to live. I chose sanity. I told myself that the sick hating game with Devon was a cancer I needed to cut out. I told myself I would be happy without the blood, the obsession, the constant war of our existence. I thought the decision I made was the best for me.

Keyword: thought.

I wasn’t happy. I was a hollow shell painted to look like a woman. Every night for two years, I grieved him. Not the monster who killed my brother, not the Alpha who tormented me, but the love I failed to protect. I resented myself. I hated the face staring back at me in the mirror because it was the face of a coward who left Devon to burn in his own personal hell while I enjoyed the fresh air.

A sharp knock on the door shattered the silence.

"Irene, open up. I know you’re awake."

I didn’t move. "Go away, Brielle."

The door handle rattled, and then the wood groaned as it was shoved open. Brielle didn’t care about locks. She marched in, holding a black dress that looked like a funeral shroud designed by a fashion magazine. She threw it onto the bed next to me.

"It’s been an hour, Irene," Brielle said, her voice hard but her eyes soft. "Gideon is waiting downstairs. The car is running. We are going to be late."

Ah. Gideon. He was appointed as the North Alpha few days ago, his coronation is in two days. He now managed the North Pack and Ironfang.

"I’m not going," I said, my voice raspy from disuse. "I told you yesterday. I told Gideon. I’m not going to his death anniversary. I can’t stand there and watch them light candles for a man I..." I stopped, choking on the word.

Brielle sat down beside me, her hand gripping my shoulder. "For a man you what? Love? Hate? It’s the same thing with you two."

I shrugged her off, standing up and pacing the room. "I don’t want to be in the North anymore, Brielle. My father is here, and every time I look at him, I feel nothing. The bond is gone. Gideon is leading Ironfang, and I’m just... existing."

"You’re hiding," Brielle corrected. She stood up, blocking my path. "And you’re hiding because you feel guilty."

"I don’t feel guilty," I lied.

"Liar," she hissed. "You feel guilty because you think you abandoned him. But you need to come tonight. For closure."

I laughed, dry and humorless sound. "Closure doesn’t exist for people like us."

"Just come. Pay your respects. If not for him, then do it for yourself so you can finally sleep at night."

I pulled my hands away, trembling. "Fine. I’ll go. But if I hear one speech about what a ’hero’ he was, I’m burning the hall down."

Brielle smiled, a sad, knowing curve of her lips. "I’ll have the matches ready."

The Memorial Hall was suffocating.

Black drapes hung from every pillar, and the scent of white lilies was so thick it tasted like poison in the back of my throat. Hundreds of wolves from Ironfang and Silvercrest stood in rows, heads bowed.

I stood near the back, hidden in the shadows. Gideon was at the front, looking solemn and regal as the Alpha of Ironfang and soon-to-be Alpha of the North. Beside him stood Gamma Harlan and Beta Zane.

Zane stepped up to the podium. He looked older, tired. "Two years," Zane said into the microphone, his voice echoing through the vaulted ceiling. "Two years since we lost a leader who was... complicated. A visionary. A man who did what was necessary."

I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached. Necessary. Was killing my brother necessary? Was trapping me in a frozen world necessary?

"He built this pack from the ashes," Zane continued, his eyes glistening. "And though he is gone, his legacy remains in the strength of our borders and the fear in our enemies’ eyes."

Gamma Harlan nodded solemnly from the side. The crowd murmured in agreement.

I couldn’t do it. The walls were closing in. The air felt thin, stripped of oxygen. My skin prickled, not with heat, but with a phantom cold that I hadn’t felt in twenty-four months.

I turned around, my heels clicking loudly on the stone floor. Heads turned. I didn’t care. I pushed past a row of confused warriors and shoved the heavy double doors open, stumbling out into the cool night air.

I didn’t stop there. I ran. I ran past the cars, past the guards, and up the external maintenance stairs that led to the flat rooftop of the hall. I needed the sky. I needed to breathe.

I burst onto the roof of North pack house, the wind whipping my hair across my face. I walked to the edge, gripping the concrete railing until my knuckles turned white. Below, the city lights flickered, indifferent to my pain.

"Coward," I whispered to the wind. "You’re a coward, Irene."

I closed my eyes, tilting my head back. I recalled the feeling of his hand on my neck. The weight of his gaze. The absolute, crushing terror and thrill of being near him.

Maybe I’ll feel it again, I thought. Just a ghost. Just a memory.

The night breeze brushed my skin, carrying a scent. Crisp. Metallic. Like rain on hot pavement. Like midnight.

I gasped, spinning around. The roof was empty. Just the vents humming and my shadows stretching across the gravel.

"Illusion," I snapped, rubbing my arms. "Get a grip, Irene. You’re losing your mind."

I turned back to the city, gripping the rail again. The anger bubbled up, hot and acidic.

"You ruined my life, Devon," I said loud enough for the stars to hear. "You’re dead, and you’re still ruining it. I’m going to spend my entire life grieving a monster. I’m going to spend fifty years regretting that I ever met you. I regret the hatred. I regret the love. I regret that twisted, sick obsession that made me feel more alive than safety ever could."

I slammed my hand against the concrete. "I hate you! I hate that I left you there!"

The silence that followed was heavy.

Then, a voice echoed behind me. A voice that sounded like gravel and velvet. A voice that shouldn’t exist.

"You think I ruined your life?"

I froze. My blood turned to ice. My lungs seized.

I turned slowly, terrified that if I moved too fast, the hallucination would shatter.

Devon stood near the stairwell door.

He wasn’t a ghost. He wasn’t a memory. He was wearing a black suit that fit him like a second skin, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. His hair was windblown, his skin pale, but his eyes—those icy grey eyes—were burning with a fire that could scorch the earth.

He took a step forward. "You ruined mine both on the earth and in hell."

I couldn’t speak. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I just stared, shaking.

He smirked, that arrogant, infuriating tilt of his lips that I had dreamed about for seven hundred and thirty nights.

"Thankfully," Devon said, closing the distance between us with slow, predatory strides, "the loop wasn’t boring. You see, your eighteen-year-old self? She loathed me just as much as you do. I didn’t know you’ve been so feisty since you were eighteen. My type of woman, actually."

He stopped two feet away from me. I could smell him now. He smelled like life. He smelled like power.

"That was when I realized it, Irene," he murmured, his eyes scanning my face, devouring every inch of me. "We will forever be enemies. In the past. In the future. In whatever timeline exists. But always with a sprinkle of mad obsession and steamy sex."

My knees gave out. I stumbled, and he was there instantly. His hands shot out, gripping my waist, hauling me up against his chest. The contact was electric. It was a shock to the system that jump-started my heart.

"You’re... you’re real," I whispered, gripping his lapels.

"I’m real," he confirmed. "I clawed my way back. I broke the loop. I broke the rules. Because hell was boring without you trying to kill me."

He looked down at me, his expression hardening with a mixture of lust and resentment. "Our relationship started with hatred. It ended with hatred. And in that loop, I had so much fun unlocking your hatred and affection for me. I didn’t mind you killing me, Irene. I welcomed it."

He lowered his head, his lips brushing against my ear. A shiver racked my body, undeniably and violently.

"Fucking you while that hatred for me is buried inside you is the best feeling ever," he whispered.

I shoved him back, hitting his chest with my fists. "You bastard!" I screamed, tears finally spilling over. "You selfish, arrogant bastard! I was peaceful! I was safe! I was learning to live without you!"

He didn’t flinch. He let me hit him. He just watched me with that dark, possessive hunger.

"I was moving on!" I yelled, striking his shoulder. "And you come back? Now? You interrupt my life again? You corrupt everything you touch, Devon! You’ve ruined me!"

I was sobbing now, my hits losing their force. I collapsed against him, burying my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent like it was oxygen and I was drowning.

"I hate you," I sobbed into his coat. "I hate you so much."

"I know," he said, his arms wrapping around me, crushing me to him. "I know."

I pulled back abruptly, looking at his face. The sharp jawline, the cruel mouth, the eyes that saw right through my soul. I didn’t think. I didn’t weigh the pros and cons.

I grabbed the back of his neck and smashed my lips against his.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was war. It was two years of grief and rage pouring out of me. He groaned, a low, animalistic sound, and kissed me back with a force that bruised. His hands tangled in my hair, tilting my head back, devouring me.

We stumbled back, hitting the concrete wall of the stairwell. He pinned me there, his body pressing hard against mine, leaving no room for doubt. This was toxic. This was dangerous. This was wrong in every way that mattered to a sane person.

I broke the kiss, gasping for air, my forehead resting against his. We were both panting, wrecked.

"If you stay," I whispered, my voice trembling, "it means the games start again. The sick hating game. The angry sex. The angst. The tension. The death."

Devon’s hand came up, his thumb tracing my lower lip. "Is that a warning, Irene?"

I looked into his eyes. I saw my reflection there. I didn’t see the peaceful woman I tried to be. I saw the fire. I saw the chaos. I saw the only place I had ever truly belonged.

If it meant the pain, if it meant the madness, if it meant him... I would let him burn the world down around me.

I grabbed his tie, yanking him back down to me.

"Ruin me."