Page 20 of Ruthless Royalty

“What the hell? Let me go!” I shout, my voice echoing in the silence. But my captors remain silent, their grip firm as they drag me out of my room.

What the fuck did I take self-defense lessons for?!

I don’t know how long they drag me, but the cold air biting at my skin and the occasional stumble over uneven ground tell me we’re outside. Panic wells up inside me, a cold, sick feeling in my stomach. I have no idea what’s happening or why.

Finally, we come to a stop. The blindfold is ripped off, and I blink against the sudden brightness. I’m standing in what looks like a courtyard, with nine other people, all looking just as confused and scared as I feel. Among them, I see Cat with her arms crossed, her eyes not filled with fear like the rest of us, but annoyance.

It’s only then that I notice in front of us are four people wearing black masks, each with a different playing card suitengraved in silver over their left eyes: a spade, a diamond, a club, and instead of a heart, there’s a jester’s hat. They stand tall and imposing, the masks hiding any hint of their identities.

But I know who the fuckers are; I’ve seen the tattoos on their fingers.

“Welcome to Legacy Week, you fuckin’ heathens,” says the one with the Jester Hat mask, his voice distorted by the mask but I know it’s Connor.

“Let me guess,” he continues, pacing in front of us, his voice dripping with that casual arrogance he always wears like a second skin. “You thought you were here to join the elite, to step into your rightful place among the Crowns. But here’s the thing, darlin’s—Legacy Week isn’t just about survival. It’s about proving that your families are worthy of standin’ beside ours, tied to our bloodlines in the long term. So if you thought this was just a fuckin’ formality, you’re dead wrong.”

What the fuck? I start to freak out, my breath coming in short gasps as I take a step back. I can’t do this. I’m not made for this kind of thing. This isn’t me! I’m not cut out for this world.

Connor stops pacing, turning to face us, his head cocked to the side as if daring someone to challenge him. No one does.

“We’ll be watching you,” Connor continues, that signature smirk of his practically oozing through the mask. “Every move you make, every decision we’ll be reporting back to your fathers. Make no mistake, if you fail this week, you fail them, and trust me, no one walks away from that unscathed.”

I’m about to bolt, when the Spade mask steps towards me.

“Running already,Micetta?“ His voice is a cold taunt, dripping with mockery. “I thought you had more fight in you. You wanted to play with the big boys, so this is your initiation.”

I freeze at the familiar voice and that condescending tone, the nickname— fucking Giovanni.

“Fuck you,” I whisper back, my voice shaking.

My heart hammers in my chest, every instinct screaming at me to push him away, to run, but I can’t move. I’m trapped in his gaze, in this moment, in the web of power he’s spun around me. He reaches up, the leather of his glove brushing against my cheek in a mockery of tenderness.

“Welcome to Legacy Week,” he murmurs and takes a few steps backwards. “This is where the real fun begins.”

What the fuck are they planning?

“Legacy Week is one long fucking trial,” Giovanni, starts, his voice cold and sharp, just like him. “This is about loyalty, strength, and endurance. If you think this is just hazing, you’re not paying attention. We want to know if you have what it takes to protect what’s ours.”

“And this is just the beginning,” Nikolai takes over, his voice low. “Will you still be standing by the end of the week? Or will you crumble under the pressure, proving that your family name isn’t worth the dirt on our shoes?”

“First up,” Connor says, his voice taking on a darker edge, “we’ve got the Blood Oath tonight. And that’s where Nikolai comes in.”

Oh, I do NOT like this.

“The Blood Oath is not just a test of loyalty,” Nikolai begins, his voice smooth and cold. “It’s a test of sacrifice. Tonight, you’ll swear your allegiance, not just to us, but to the legacy your families claim to uphold. You’ll bleed for it. You’ll prove that you’re willing to give up a part of yourself for the privilege of standing beside the Crowns.”

I bite down on the inside of my cheek, trying to keep my expression neutral, but the tension in the air is thick, suffocating.

“And then we’ve got The Night Hunt,” Connor says, dragging out the words for effect. “My personal favorite. I’ve hidden somethin’—an important item from each of you, somethin’ that meansa hell of a lot more than you think. Your task is simple, sweethearts: find it. But of course, it’s never that easy, is it?”

There’s a long, heavy pause before the next figure steps forward—Mihai, the one with the club painted over his mask. He’s more imposing than the rest, his posture almost too calm, too controlled.

“The Day of Silence,” Mihai says, his tone clipped and to the point. “A full day where you will not speak. Not a single word, and trust me, we’ll know if you break the rule. The point? To show discipline. To show control. If you can’t control your tongue, how can you be trusted with anything else?”

There’s no room for argument in Mihai’s tone. It’s a command, not a suggestion.

“And lastly,” Giovanni says, taking center stage again, “The Chase. The final trial. The one that breaks you or proves your worth. We’ll be hunting each of you, and trust me, we’re relentless. I catch you, and you’re out. You have to survive the night, running through the dark, with nothing but your wits and instincts to guide you.”

“Because when all is said and done, we’re not just looking for heirs. We’re looking for wolves.” Giovanni’s eyes flash behind the mask, and even though I can’t see his face, I know he’s grinning. “And we’ll find out which of you is ready to run with the pack.”

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