Ruby
"Get. In. The. Car."
My voice cut through the air like a blade, sharper than I meant. Aveline obeyed without a word. She was such an idiot sometimes — standing in front of the car like that. Did she even realize? If I hadn't slammed the brakes in time, if her blue eyes had been the last thing I saw before crushing her under my wheels…
That thought alone made my grip on the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turned white.
Beside me, her small trembling hand slid over mine. Just one touch, fragile but grounding. I didn't move, didn't shake her off. I let her hold me.
Minutes later, the villa came into sight. She was still trembling, silent, and I could see the pain she was hiding in the tight corners of her mouth. When I parked, I didn't waste a breath — I got out, swung her door open, and offered my hand.
"Come."
She placed her hand in mine, but her legs gave out almost instantly. She could barely stand. A heavy sigh escaped me. Without hesitation, I scooped her up in my arms, bridal style.
"Ruby, you don't need to—" Her voice was trembling, almost a whisper.
I didn't answer. I just held her tighter and carried her straight to our room.
I laid her down gently on the bed, her glassy blue eyes locked on me as if searching for something in the storm. Straightening myself, I turned and strode into the bathroom. When I came back, the first aid kit was in my hands.
"Sit. Don't move."
My voice was calm, but the anger laced through it was impossible to miss. Not anger at her, but at the thought of what could've happened. At the idea of losing her.
She obeyed, sitting at the edge of the bed. And me? Ruby Sun, who never knelt before anyone in her entire life, lowered herself onto her knees in front of her.
Her knees were raw, bleeding. Her palms scraped, her elbow torn. And her ankle — twisted, swollen, pulsing with pain.
I worked silently. Cleaned. Bandaged. She flinched but stayed quiet, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood rather than show me her tears.
When I finished, I left her only for a moment, returning with ice wrapped in a cloth. Again, I knelt in front of her, placing her ankle carefully across my lap. The cold pressed into her skin and she hissed, clutching at the sheets like they could hold her together.
Minutes stretched. The room was silent except for her shaky breaths, and then — the first little hiccup broke free. Then another.
The sound shattered something inside me.
---
I caught her staring at her ankle, shame clouding her face, and it split something inside me. I hooked two fingers under her chin, forcing her to meet my eyes.
"Don't you ever—ever—dare to do this again," I whispered, voice sharp enough to cut.
She nodded, trembling, but the tears didn't stop. They spilled, hot and unrelenting, soaking her lap until I couldn't bear it anymore. I pulled her up, steadying her chin again so she'd see the fury and the fear in me. My lips crashed onto hers, desperate, punishing. She clung to me like she was drowning, sobbing into my mouth, and I let her.
When I sank onto the bed, she followed, curling against me. I let her clutch me tight, fists twisting my shirt as if I were the only anchor she had left. My arms rocked her slowly, like she was something fragile I was afraid to break but terrified to lose.
Half an hour passed before her sobs melted into hiccups, before her breathing softened enough that silence pressed heavy between us. She finally lay down beside me, cheeks still damp, lashes clumped with tears.
"Little rabbit."
Her eyes snapped to mine, wide, startled—like she was checking if she'd really heard me right. The nickname. God, I hadn't called her that in forever, and it tasted bittersweet on my tongue. I sighed, running a thumb over her damp cheek.
"Rabbit," I said softer this time, "you're not allowed to go anywhere. That's final. And if Andrew tries to reach you again, I'll make sure he regrets it."
She only nodded. No protest, no fire in her voice, not even a flicker of defiance. Just silence.
I hated it.
I wanted her to fight me, to scream, to shove at my chest—anything. To prove she still had a heartbeat strong enough to resist me. But instead, she just lay there, still and obedient, her silence louder than any scream could be.
"Anything, Aveline," I whispered against her hair. "Just… anything. Don't go quiet on me."
---
The morning was mine. No office, no blood, no boardrooms, no shadows. Just the quiet hum of sunlight spilling across the curtains and her—my Aveline—curled against me. Her head rested on my arm, and for once I didn't care if it went numb; I'd let it rot there if it meant she stayed. That pout on her lips, careless, innocent, the kind only dreams could carve on her face… she looked like something more precious than any painting. Art could never capture what I was holding.
I brushed a finger through her violet hair, soft as silk, tracing lazy circles over her scalp like I could memorize every strand. She stirred, eyes fluttering open with that slow, hesitant grace that always made my chest ache. I didn't say a word, neither did she—silence didn't weigh between us this time, it wrapped us. My hand slipped to her waist, moving in small circles, slow and steady, like I was taming a wild storm.
Then she lifted her hand, almost unsure, and touched my hair. My weakness. She always loved to play with it, like it was her favorite secret. When her fingers sank in and toyed with it, a tiny smile ghosted her lips. God, that smile—it cut through me sharper than any blade.
I pulled her closer, tight against me, not giving her the option of space. She didn't resist. Her fingers kept combing through my hair, twisting and releasing, like she was threading herself into me strand by strand. I buried my face into her neck, breathing her in. She smelled clean, warm, like morning itself—like something alive and untouched by the darkness that ruled me.
I could stay like this forever, tracing her waist, feeling her heartbeat sync into mine, letting her hands claim me. Her quietness was dangerous—it made me crave louder things. But for now, the silence was enough.
---
I forgot my rage, forgot my claws, forgot everything that made me the beast they feared. I swear to God, for this girl, I could leave my empire without hesitation. For her, I could forget who I am, what I am. She's that important to me.
Aveline was lying against me, giggling softly, her fingers threading through my red hair like it was spun silk. She was obsessed — with my wolfcut, with the dragon etched along my arm, with the fire-breathing face coiled on my neck. Her touch traced every scale, every line of that tattoo, and for a second, I felt more human than weapon.
I stared down at her, and she looked ridiculous — ridiculous because yesterday I told her she wasn't allowed to step outside, not even a step, and now she was fearless, sprawled over me, teasing me like I couldn't break her with a flick of my wrist. And yet… I didn't. I couldn't. Not her.
The room was dim, only our breaths filling the silence — until the shrill buzz of my phone cut through. I sighed, dragging my hand across my face, and reached for it on the nightstand.
"Hello, Max. What's wrong?"
My brother's voice was tight, strained.
"Sis… you need to come. Dad's in the hospital."
I shot upright, the blood draining from my veins. Aveline blinked up at me, instantly alert, sitting up beside me with those wide, worried eyes.
"Send me the address. I'll be there," I said flatly into the phone, then hung up.
"What's wrong?" Aveline whispered.
"Nothing. I'm leaving." My voice was sharper than I wanted. Her face pinched, but she didn't argue. "Eat your breakfast. I'll be back by afternoon."
I stood, my chest tight, and pulled on clean clothes with mechanical precision. Before I left, I paused. For a second, I bent down, brushed my lips against her forehead. Her eyes searched me, but I couldn't let her see the storm breaking inside.
And then I was gone.
First Mom. Then nearly losing Aveline.
And now… Dad.
Why now?
I rushed to the hospital. Max was already waiting for me, his expression calm but shadowed.
"Dad's fine," he said, "but we need to take care of him now."
I stepped into the room, and instantly that hospital air hit me—the walls too white, too clean, too silent. I've always hated that silence. Dad lay on the bed, looking strangely peaceful, as if a weight had been lifted from him.
I sank into the chair beside him.
"Did I make you worried?" he asked, voice calm, steady.
For a moment, I wanted to break, to cry right there, but I forced myself together. "You old man," I muttered, forcing a shaky smile, "you scared me for a moment."
He chuckled softly, his hand closing over mine.
"The Sun family's heiress doesn't get scared. My lion."
That word—my lion—it struck deep. Mom used to call me that. Memories clawed back to the surface.
Dad's green eyes locked onto mine. "Ruby," he said, "never forget who you are."
I nodded, unable to speak.
"You're Ruby Daniel Sun. Heiress of the Sun family. A mafia heir, yes—but more than that, you're a protector. You married Aveline, and that means you guard her with everything you have. I know you love her. I know there's nothing you wouldn't do for her."
I stayed quiet, my chest tightening.
"You must be wondering," he continued, his voice soft but firm, "why everyone keeps telling you to love—just love, endlessly. It's because before Aveline, you didn't laugh. You didn't smile. You didn't even live. But when she came into your life, you stopped being just an untouchable heiress. You became human. You became a person who feels, who protects, who loves. And that, Ruby… that is what makes you strong."
He smiled, faint but real. "You learned how to love. Your mother and I saw it in your eyes. That's why we never cared about anything else but you."
The pressure behind my eyes burned—I wanted to cry, but I bit it back. I bit it back. I couldn't cry. I couldn't be weak.
"Don't worry about me," he said, exhaling softly. "I'm just getting old."
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to sound steady. "Dad, you have to take care of yourself. Max still hasn't married yet. You're not allowed to die before that."
---
After a long talk with Dad, I finally made my way back. He had suffered a myocardial infarction—stress and pain we should never have let weigh on him. The thought gnawed at me with every step.
Aveline had been waiting, I knew. I'd promised her I'd return by afternoon, yet now it was already after dinner. Instead of going straight home, I wandered to Mom's grave. I sat there in silence, the world hushed around me, the weight of grief pressing against my chest.
By the time I entered the villa, Aveline was already asleep. Quiet, untouched by the storms that kept tearing me apart. I slipped off my jacket and drifted to the balcony. The night air was cold, cigarette balanced between my fingers, smoke curling like ghostly whispers. My eyes burned—not from the smoke, but from the tears I could no longer hold back.
---