Page 46 of Ruthless Kings of Vengeance
In me.
In Eva.
In all of us who've been forged in Leighton's particular fire.
The screen flickers once more, the static resolving momentarily into a clear image —Eva's face, determined and regal despite everything, walking in her uniform, looking angry as hell — before dissolving back into electronic snow.
Whether real footage or manipulated vision designed to torment me, the effect is the same:a renewed sense of purpose burning through my veins.
Let them bring their worst.
The game isn't over until the last piece falls.
9
THE QUEEN'S WRATH
~GEMINI~
I'm storming through the courtyard, everyone watching in confusion as I'm far ahead of the men towing behind me.
The heels of my shoes strike the cobblestone with deliberate force, each impact sending sharp echoes across the open space.
Students scatter from my path like startled birds, their conversations dying mid-sentence as they register the murderous intent radiating from my every movement.
They know I'm not angry at them. Oh no. I'm furious at the news that Matteo, my Bunny Stalker who's been my protector on so many levels, is now somewhere on Leighton soil, in a place I need to discover in a short period of time or else he's rid of.
Terminated.
The mere thought sends another wave of rage coursing through my body, hot and electric.
My fists are shaking just thinking about it, nails digging crescents into my palms deep enough to threaten blood. Andthat's probably better than how I almost broke the windshield of the car on our way here out of anger.
The memory flashes vividly in my mind—my hand slamming against the glass, the spider-web of cracks that formed beneath my palm, Zander's steady grip pulling me back before I could strike again.
Ren had whispered something about replacing the car being cheaper than replacing my hand, but the joke fell flat against the suffocating tension in the vehicle.
Even he knew better than to push further when my eyes met his in the rearview mirror.
It's crazy how tense situations pull out the worst in you, but this is far more different than that. This isn't just anger—this is existential fury, the kind that burns cold rather than hot, that crystallizes thought rather than clouding it.
This is the rage of a Queen realizing her King has been taken from the board while she wasn't looking.
I feel robbed.
As if we've gone through all these challenges, just to be at the risk of failing because I haven't "given up" like other Maidens have. The unfairness of it claws at my insides, makes my vision sharpen with predatory focus.
Every challenge overcome, every near-death experience survived, every careful alliance forged—all potentially meaningless if I can't find Matteo in time.
It doesn't help that I can't remember who Domino is, aside from him being related to Matteo because they look alike.
That's the least of my concerns right now, though from the brief summarized version of our complicated past, maybe it's good I've forgotten his existence because I don't need distractions right now. I need revenge, starting with demanding my man, my Ruthless King, to be given back to me by any means necessary.
The silver bracelet on my wrist catches the midday sun, flashing like a signal. Knifey rests in its hidden sheath against my thigh, a comforting weight beneath the pleated skirt of the Leighton uniform I've donned for our return.
The familiar fabric feels strange against my skin after days in looser clothing, the structured lines of the blazer simultaneously constraining and armor-like.
Students whisper as I pass, their voices a soft susurration like wind through autumn leaves.
