Page 26 of Ruthless Kings of Vengeance
Not when that bastard is still out there.
“I can’t lose you again, Eva,” I murmur against her damp skin, the confession slipping past my lips before I can stop it. Maybe I need to say it out loud to emphasize the truth and those words. To convince myself that I won’t allow such a close call to come to fruition. “I won’t survive it.”
That’s the problem.
It clicks in because I know this situation will happen again.
This cycle will continue until we’re crowned the victors of this rise to power.
Until we solidify our roles as Ruthless Kings, with her sitting on her rightful throne as Ruthless Queen, this constant closeness will keep on going.
Until it claims what’s so vitally precious to us.
She exhales shakily, her fingers tracing idle patterns against my chest.
“You won’t lose me,” she whispers. “I’m right here.”
I close my eyes, inhaling her scent, letting her words settle deep in my bones. But the rage simmers beneath the surface, the need for vengeance a living, breathing entity inside me.
If I had lost her, I would’ve burned the world to the ground.
That’s the thing. I’m very tempted to keep my word, for I’m not waiting until she’s out of my grasp to set this world ablaze.
I run my hand through Eva's hair, the silver strands significantly shorter than I'm used to but still silky between my fingers.
We relax onto the bed, her body a welcome weight against my chest, both of us breathing in the aftermath of our connection. I'm reluctant to separate from her, to break this moment of perfect unity where she's safe, whole, and completely mine.
The morning light streams through the balcony doors, painting her skin with golden hues that make her look almost ethereal. My fingers trace idle patterns on her back, feeling the steady rhythm of her breathing gradually slowing as exhaustion begins to claim her.
"Are you in pain?" I whisper, ghosting my fingers near the bandage on her side, careful not to apply pressure to the healing wound.
She shifts slightly against me, a soft hum escaping her lips.
"Probably won't feel it until I wake up from a nap," she murmurs, her voice drowsy and content. "But for now, I just feel like jelly and exhaustion."
A smirk tugs at my lips as I continue running my hand through her short locks, feeling the silky strands slip between my fingers.
"Your hair is growing already," I observe, twisting a strand gently.
"Hmm," is all she manages in response, clearly drifting toward sleep, her body growing heavier against mine as tension melts away.
I allow her this moment of silence, this rare slice of peace in our chaotic existence. Her breathing deepens, each exhale warm against my chest as she surrenders to exhaustion. The weight of her in my arms feels right —necessary— after how close I came to losing her forever.
A sigh escapes me as I stare at the ceiling, the quiet of the room suddenly feeling too deliberate.
My senses, always hyperaware, pick up on the subtle shift in energy that suggests we're not as alone as we appear.
"Are you gonna keep watching from the corner," I say to the seemingly empty room, my voice pitched low enough not to disturb Eva, "or are you planning to join the conversation?"
A low chuckle radiates from the shadows, followed by measured footsteps that encourage me to turn my head to the left.
Ren emerges from the darkened corner of the room, his usual playboy smirk firmly in place despite the exhaustion evident in the lines around his eyes.
"How long have you known I was here?" he asks, leaning against the wall with practiced casualness that doesn't quite mask the tension in his shoulders.
"Since we came back from the balcony," I reply, carefully adjusting Eva's sleeping form against me to ensure her comfort. Her wound is still healing, and the last thing I want is to cause her any additional pain, even unconsciously.
Ren pouts, looking dissatisfied with my admission.
