Page 4 of Ruthless Kings of Vengeance
"You wouldn't cry?" I press, needing to understand exactly what's building behind those unique eyes. "Unless what?"
"Unless I actually didn't want to die."
The simplicity of her answer somehow makes it worse.
She turns back to the window, watching buildings pass with an expression far too old for her delicate features.
"Are you saying you have nothing to live for?" The question emerges sharper than intended, carrying all my poorly hidden concern.
Another shrug, this one smaller than the last.
"So far all I see is debts to be paid and paths to take to get power when I'm older." She pauses, lips pulling into a thoughtful pout that reminds me she's still just a child, despite her old soul. "Doesn't mean I'd kill myself obviously. I'm a chicken to do that."
"You're not a chicken," I argue immediately, but she just smirks, that dangerous little curve of lips that seems to promise future devastation.
"I am," she insists, something darker entering her tone. "Because I'd rather go through the suffering of the world than pull the trigger on myself." Her reflected gaze holds mine captive as she adds: "Why would I want to be the culprit of stealing my constant suffering? Doesn't make it very vengeful in my eyes."
A chill runs down my spine at the calculation in her voice.
"Would you want someone to avenge you?" I ask carefully, watching how that spark of something dangerous grows brighter in her expression.
Her quiet laugh carries no humor, the sound too old, too knowing for her small frame.
"Of course. I'd want vengeance because I deserve it." She shifts slightly, wincing as the movement pulls at her bandaged arms. "A victim of agony and torment every day from a boy who has it all and yet it's not enough. My struggling and peril is what makes him happy go lucky."
That dangerous spark turns to fire as she declares.
"That calls for a vengeance arc."
"Revenge arc," I correct automatically, but she shakes her head with surprising vehemence, silver hair catching late afternoon sun like captured starlight.
"Vengeance."
The word hangs between us like prophecy as I navigate familiar streets, the weight of it settling in my bones. A young mind who didn’t know what her destiny had in store for her…
A path that would eventually bring kings to their knees.
The memory shatters as Eva's body convulses beneath my hands, bringing me crashing back to our desperate present with me conducting CPR on autopilot.
Her earlier words echo in my mind as I start back up the chest compressions, trying to force her heart to keep beating despite the poison flooding her system.
I wouldn't cry.
Unless I actually didn't want to die.
When glimpse at her lifeless facial expression proves whether the life she’s lived since then had changed her perspective.
On weather she’d found something so significant that she’d wish to live for.
Yearn for vengeance if death got to her first…
The tears tracking down her pale cheeks now tell me everything her younger self had tried to explain.
She doesn't want this death — doesn't want to leave before seeing her carefully orchestrated plans come to fruition.
Before witnessing exactly what kind of vengeance her Kings would rain down on those who dared touch what's theirs.
"Come back, V," I grunt between compressions, watching how those tears catch moonlight like liquid diamonds. The dog continues its mournful pacing, each whimper matching the desperate rhythm I'm trying to maintain. "You don't get to die like this. Not before your vengeance is complete."
