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Ruined By The Two

He’s my stepbrother. He’s my stepfather. And now… they’re the only ones keeping me alive. After her mother’s death, Calla is forced to move into the Volkov estate—cold halls, locked doors, and too many secrets. Damien is powerful. Jace is dangerous. They say they’re protecting her. But from what? Men are watching her. Someone wants her dead. And the deeper she goes… the more twisted everything becomes. She was supposed to stay safe. She was never supposed to want them. But in this house, desire is a weapon—and love could be the final trap. Dark. Addictive. Forbidden. This is not the life she chose… but it just might be the one that destroys her.
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Chapter 5

CALLA

Later that night, I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling.

My heart wouldn’t slow down.

Who the hell was Silas?

What did he think I had?

And why did Damien sound so scared?

I heard a knock on my door.

I didn’t answer.

Jace opened it anyway.

He leaned on the doorframe. "So. Still think you're just a guest here?"

I turned to the wall. "Leave me alone."

"He told you, didn’t he?"

"Told me what? That my life is one giant lie? That I’m suddenly everyone's favorite target?"

Jace was quiet. Then, "You better start believing it."

"I didn’t ask for any of this."

"Doesn't matter. You're in it now."

He stepped inside.

"What are you doing?"

"Just making sure you're still breathing."

I rolled my eyes. "Touching. Really."

He smirked. "Careful, princess. The walls have ears."

He turned and walked out, shutting the door softly behind him.

I couldn’t sleep.

Again.

Damien’s words wouldn’t stop replaying in my head.

If you leave, you die.

I sat up in bed, heart pounding.

I needed water. Something. Anything to clear my head.

I threw the blanket off and stood. My tank top clung to my skin. My shorts were too thin. I didn’t care.

Everything was doing me. My body was hot.

I tiptoed out of the room and padded down the hallway.

The house was dark.

Too dark.

I passed a window and looked out. Two guards standing still near the gate.

I moved faster. Down the stairs, holding my breath with each creak of the old wood.

In the kitchen, I opened a cabinet and grabbed a glass. The water from the dispenser was cold.

I gulped it down.

That’s when I heard it.

A soft sound. Like cloth brushing the wall.

I turned slowly.

Someone stood near the wine rack.

It was a maid.

But she wasn’t cleaning. She was opening a vent. Looking inside it. Like she was hiding something. Or searching for something.

"Hey," I said.

She jumped.

I narrowed my eyes. "What are you doing?"

She turned around fast.

Her hand moved.

There was a gun.

My eyes widened.

"Wait—"

She fired.

BANG!

I dropped the glass. Hit the floor hard.

The bullet hit the cupboard behind me. Splinters flew.

My ears rang.

What the fuck?!

I crawled to the counter. Shaking. Heart thumping out of my chest.

Footsteps. Heavy boots. Voices.

"Gunshot! West hall!"

Guards flooded in. Lights flipped on.

"There! She has a weapon!"

I looked up. The maid turned and ran.

Three guards chased her.

I stayed frozen on the floor. Breathing hard.

My ears still buzzed.

Damien rushed in.

Jace followed.

Their eyes locked on me. On the broken glass. On the bullet hole.

"Calla!"

Damien was beside me in seconds. "Are you hit?"

"N-No," I whispered. "She missed."

Jace crouched next to me. "Who was it?"

"A maid. I don’t know her. The she shot at me."

Damien stood. Furious. "Get her. Alive."

Guards disappeared into the halls.

Jace helped me stand. I leaned into him, legs weak.

"You okay?"

"No."

I looked around. The kitchen looked normal again. Like nothing happened.

But my ears still rang.

“Miss Calla, are you hurt?” one of the guards shouted.

“I’m fine!” I snapped, though my hands were shaking.

Guards flooded the kitchen. Boots, guns, orders flying.

“She—she shot at me,” I said quickly. “The maid. She had a gun.”

“Where did she go?”

“She ran. I don’t know where. She aimed at me and I dropped.”

“Secure the back hallway!” someone yelled. “Sweep the east wing!”

Damien’s eyes locked on mine. “Did you see her face?”

“Not clearly. It was fast.”

“What was she doing?” Jace asked, stepping closer. “Why would she pull a gun on you?”

“She was near the wine rack. She was opening something. A vent, I think.”

Damien turned to the guards. “Check that wall. Tear it apart if you have to.”

Jace kept his eyes on me. “You sure she aimed at you? Not just… firing randomly?”

“She looked right at me, Jace.”

“You’re sure.”

“Yes! Why are you questioning me like I did something?”

“Because someone gave her access,” Damien muttered. “And I don’t like surprises.”

Jace crouched beside the vent. One of the guards was already pulling tools from a black case. “You think she was hiding something in there?” he asked.

“Or taking something out,” Damien said. His voice was low, almost quiet. That made it worse.

“Maybe she was paid to plant something,” one of the guards said. “She’s been acting nervous lately. Leaving her post too often.”

“Who gave her clearance to work this floor?” Damien asked.

The guard didn’t answer.

“Find out,” Damien snapped. “Tonight.”

I stayed quiet. My arms were wrapped around myself like that could hold me together.

Jace walked over again, slower this time. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Your hands are shaking.”

“Wouldn’t yours be?”

He sighed. “Yeah. Maybe.”

There was a loud crack. The guard near the wall had broken something loose. A metal cover fell to the ground. Dust spilled out. Nothing inside. Just empty space.

“Clean that up,” Damien said. “Then double-check every other vent in this house.”

“What if she planted more than one?” Jace muttered.

I took a shaky breath. “I’m going upstairs.”

“You should stay where we can see you,” Jace said.

“I’m fine.”

I turned and walked past them, heart racing.

I walked out of the kitchen. The hallway was too quiet again. I hated how loud my own breathing sounded. I passed two guards—new ones. They didn’t speak. Just nodded and looked ahead like statues.

The stairs felt too long. My chest hurt. I kept thinking about the gun. The way she aimed at me. Like she knew exactly who I was.

Why would someone want me dead?

Why now?

When I reached the top, I stopped.

Someone was standing outside my room.

Still.

Watching me.

I swallowed hard.

“…Who are you?”