Page 3 of Ruin (Villains for Hire)

R uin carried the tiny female through dimly lit corridors, heading for Skeldra’s abandoned districts, his footsteps as silent as a ghost.

The corridors were a labyrinth of cracked walls, flickering lights, and debris strewn across the grimy floors. Shadows lurked in every corner and the air was thick with the stench of decay and neglect.

Though his senses remained on high alert, he moved with confidence, navigating the dark, narrow maze with practiced ease. He'd used these passageways before, when jobs brought him to Skeldra. He knew which twists and turns to take to avoid any unwanted attention.

A faint tremor rippled through her, likely from the cold suffusing these areas. He barely felt the chill, but he’d heard humans were particularly susceptible to it.

Tightening his hold, he tucked her closer against his chest, trying to share more of his heat. The curve of her cheek grazed one of the runic scars slashing across his pectoral, and an uncharacteristic tenderness stirred in his gut.

He glanced down at her, taking in the delicate features visible through the tangled locks of dirty hair—the slope of her nose, the soft curve of her cheek.

She was a fragile thing, like a wisp of smoke that could vanish in an instant. Yet there was a quiet strength in those green eyes peering up at him, a resilience that spoke of the hardships she'd endured.

Her breaths were shallow but steady, her scent—like caramelized choc’kor —filled his lungs with each inhale. It was intoxicating... and unsettling.

Finally, they made it to the abandoned sections of the spaceport.

This district was a ghost town, an entire sector of derelict buildings webbed with deserted streets and alleys abandoned after a plague outbreak decades ago.

Faded signs hung askew, their messages lost to time, and every turn revealed another stretch of desolation. The pale glow of the bioluminescent vegetation growing through cracks in the walkways and up the sides of buildings offered the only break from the darkness blanketing this entire area.

Lira lifted her head off his chest, peering around with squinted eyes. “Where are we?”

“Abandoned sections of Skeldra. They call ‘em the ghostways.”

Her lips curled a little. “I like that.”

Surprised, he cast her an interested look. Most beings he’d met who believed in lingering energies feared them.

“Why?”

Her slim shoulders lifted. “If there are ghosts, then you’re not alone.”

Godsdamn. Why did that simple, honest answer hit him like a mag-coil slug to the chest?

Another few minutes of navigating deeper into the district, and he spotted their destination: an old, rundown warehouse he’d secured on his last job here. As he slipped inside, he tightened his grip to draw her dangling legs in closer, careful not to let her bloody feet knock into the frame.

The heavy door creaked as he shouldered it closed, making him freeze. Pausing, he listened intently, increasing the sensitivity of his hearing with a thought.

When all he caught was the distant hum of machinery and the occasional skittering of small creatures in the shadows, he relaxed.

He carried Lira past the towering sentinels of long forgotten equipment and into one of the small, secure offices in the back. Setting her down on a stool, he secured the door, then activated the sub-dermal implant in his left forearm.

With a few taps, Ruin enabled the security measures he'd installed on his last visit. Micro-sensors came to life, forming an invisible net around the perimeter. Any intruders should be detected long before they got close and became a problem.

Looking up, he caught Lira’s curious gaze drifting over the sparse furnishings.

A pop-up bed he’d left last time, hermetically sealed to ensure it remained clean, took up the majority of the room. Crates of supplies he’d scavenged lined the far wall, and a table and two stools sat to his right. Past those was a broken down but still functional cleansing room.

Wasn’t much, but it’d suffice.

Ruin retrieved a small med-kit from one of the crates and knelt before her. “Lemme see your feet, little bird.”

She extended her legs obediently. Circling a delicate ankle, he steadied her leg and examined the wounds with a critical eye. Nothing too deep, but painful nonetheless. The Mogovian, that sadistic fuck, probably enjoyed watching her suffer.

Ruin clenched his jaw as he selected a dermal regenerator from the kit. The device hummed as he ran it over her injuries, knitting the flesh back together in seconds.

Lira gasped, eyes wide as she stared at her now healed feet in shock. “How- they’re healed! What is that?”

“Dermal regenerator. Uses nanites to clean and repair lacerations.”

She peered at the device in awe. “I didn’t know such devices existed.”

His stomach twisted. That Mogovian piece of shit.

Lira stared at him for a moment, gaze uncomfortably perceptive, then sighed and asked quietly, “These are common devices, aren’t they?”

He had to swallow down the growl rising in his throat before answering. “Yeah.”

She nodded. “Vargot said my scars reminded me of my place. That pain was the only teacher I needed.”

White-hot fury surged through his veins, but he pushed it down. Getting angry wouldn't fix anything. All he could do was try to make things a little easier for her now.

Teeth gritted, he finished tending Lira's wounds, then rose to his feet and returned to the crates to pick out some new clothing for her.

Nothing was gonna fit her petite frame. All the clothes he had were for him and he was twice her size, easy. Settling on a simple tunic and trousers, he handed her the bundle and tipped his head towards the cleansing room.

“Go wash up. I’ll make us food.”

Clothes clutched to her chest, she padded into the cleansing room. It was a derelict little space, all cracked tiles and chipped plasiform fixtures, but the sonic shower still functioned.

“I'll be out here if you need anything.”

The words felt strange on his tongue. When was the last time he offered such a sentiment to anyone?

If Lira found his declaration odd, she gave no sign. Just nodded, a grateful smile playing about her lips.

“Thank you, Ruin.”

Something twinged in his chest at the sound of his name in her soft voice. He turned away before he could examine the feeling too closely, but couldn’t resist a glance back.

Through the gap where the door didn't quite seal, he caught a glimpse of pale skin crisscrossed with scars, some old and faded, others still livid against her flesh. Rage and sorrow warred within him at the sight, mingling with a fierce protectiveness that startled him with its intensity.

He jerked his gaze away, giving her the privacy she deserved. This little human was awakening instincts he'd thought long dead, buried beneath the weight of the blood on his hands.

Why in the thirteen hells did she affect him like this? What was it about her that called to him on such a primal level? He wasn’t inexperienced with females, yet not one had captivated him the way she did.

Shaking off those disconcerting thoughts, he set about making the hideout more habitable, sweeping the floor and wiping down surfaces until the room almost passed for clean. All the while, he wrestled with the potential complications of his impulsive rescue.

Lira was a wildcard, an unknown quantity in the carefully controlled chaos of his existence.

By saving her, he'd taken on a responsibility he wasn't sure he was equipped to handle. He was an assassin, a mercenary. Not a caregiver. What the fuck did he know about helping someone heal from the kind of trauma she'd endured?

And yet... he couldn't bring himself to regret his actions. Not when he thought about the desperate hope in her eyes as she'd reached for him, the way her slight weight had felt cradled against his chest.

Like she belonged there, in the circle of his arms.

He stole a glance toward the cleansing room, listening to the faint hum of the sonic shower. Despite the risks, despite the complications, he knew he'd do it all again in a heartbeat. For her.

By the time she emerged, dressed in the oversized clothes, the food was ready and the room was as clean as it was gonna get. The bed was unwrapped, and he’d made a pallet on the floor for himself.

He turned to greet her and froze, struck momentarily speechless.

Godsdamn.

She was fucking breathtaking. Ethereal.

Her skin glowed, pale and luminous, finally free of the grime that’d caked it. White-gold hair tumbled in gleaming waves over her shoulders.

As she approached, he caught her scent and had to swallow a groan. Gods, she smelled fucking divine. Caramelized choc'kor mixed with something uniquely her. His nostrils flared, drinking it in.

For the first time, he could actually see her face.

Big green eyes were framed by dark, spiked lashes and crowned with softly arching strips of hair. A narrow, smooth-bridged nose led to plush lips, and an adorably small, rounded ear was visible on one side.

A deep, jagged scar ran from the corner of her right eye to her jawline, but it did nothing to detract from her beauty. If anything, it enhanced it.

But it was those eyes that truly entranced him. No longer dull and haunted, they shone with life, the green depths glinting with a hint of newfound vitality.

She was the most exquisite thing he'd ever seen.

“You look... ” he faltered, the words sticking in his throat. Beautiful. Radiant. Like everything he'd ever wanted, but knew he’d never deserve. He swallowed hard. “Better. You look better. How d’you feel?”

She smiled brightly and smoothed her hands down the front of the oversized tunic. “Much better, thank you. I can't remember the last time I felt this clean. And these clothes are so soft. Not at all like... ” she trailed off, expression clouding.

Ruin's heart clenched at the shadow that passed over her delicate features.

She took a step closer, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. This close, he could see flecks of gold in her green eyes.

“Thank you, Ruin. For everything.”

The sincerity in her voice, the naked gratitude, made something twist painfully in his chest.

He cleared his throat, searching for words. "You're welcome, little bird. I'm glad you're feelin' better."

Lira's smile widened at the nickname, and Ruin felt his own lips twitch in response.

What was this little human doing to him?

“C’mere,” he said gently, gesturing toward the table. “You gotta be hungry.”

Waiting for her to sit, he took the stool across from her and made their plates, piling hers high. He pushed it toward her, but she didn’t take it right away.

“Are you sure?” she whispered, eyeing the plate hungrily. “I can have all of that?”

Fucking hells.

“Yeah, little bird. Food’s easy to come by. Eat your fill.”

As they ate, he studied her, trying to reconcile the contradictions she displayed. So small, so fucking delicate, yet possessing a core of pure nichium .

“Ruin?” Her soft voice, always just barely above a whisper, broke into his thoughts.

He blinked, refocusing on her face. She was looking up at him with those big green eyes, a question in their mossy depths.

"Mm?"

Lira hesitated, worrying at her lower lip with her teeth. Finally, she murmured, “Can I ask you something?”

Ruin stiffened slightly, then forced himself to relax.

“You want to know what I am.”

He'd known this question would come. After seeing him cut through the Mogovian and his guards, she had to have gleaned some idea of what he was, what he did. No point trying to sweeten it.

Lira nodded, her gaze unwavering on his.

He sighed, running a hand over his bald head. Where to begin? How did one explain a lifetime of violence and death to someone who seemed so damn… innocent? Despite having survived a hellish existence, there was a wholesomeness to her.

Even knowing he needed to keep his distance, part of him—a dark, hungry part—longed to corrupt her, to sully all that pretty innocence.