Page 176 of Ruthless Kings of Havoc

“I guess.” He’s not wrong. “I still don’t get why you’re here.”

“Does it matter?” he finally asks and stares into my eyes. “I’m here now, so tolerate it until I can get you checked.”

“Are your eyes naturally orange like that?” I don’t get why I didn’t notice them before when we were confronting him with Domino and Flex.

He pauses in whatever he’s thinking about to stare at me again.

“Looks like balls of sunset,” I mutter and hesitantly reach out until my hand lightly cups his left cheek. “Blazing suns. Pretty.”

“You love giving me deja vu moments, Pigtails.” Marcus sighs in dismay.

“You… sound sad about it.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Are you?” I press because I don’t understand why I can remember the feeling of closeness between us, and yet everything that’s vital in any friendship goes over my head.

He’s important. I know he is. Then why can’t I recall him? What happened?

“Sometimes, our world forces us to have sad endings,” he whispers, and for a moment, those sunset eyes lower to my lips. “It’s what invites new beginnings, where we all can start over and forget what would have never benefited us.”

His words are one thing, but it pains me enough, they make my heart clench in agony.

Did we have something?

If we did, what happened? Did Domino know about it? Did something lead to us going our separate ways? If that’s the case, why is Marcus back now?

“Ringer Leader W,” I whisper. “What does that signify?”

He smirks then and leans in closer until his hot breath is tickling the side of my neck.

“You’re a smart penguin, Pigtails. Do your research.”

“It’s smart cookie” I automatically correct him in annoyance, but that encourages a soft chuckle from Marcus.

“You never changed,” he mutters, then quietly adds. “Actually, no. You did. Got a hell lot prettier.”

He pulls back, and we stare into each other’s eyes for far too long.

Who are you really, Marcus Williamson Wright?

Ringer Leader W.

The ‘W’ has to signify something.

His last name? Maybe middle name.

He’s right. I need to do more research.

“Alexia?!”

We flinch from the shrilled scream, our heads turning over to acknowledge two girls who are shaking a fellow student whose eyes are wide open while blood is pooling out of her mouth.

I quickly realize she’s not the only one down for the count.

There are at least five other girls on the ground, attempting to be shaken awake. It only takes seconds of realization for the panic to settle in and for students to race to do CPR or call for help.

“If I take you to the nurses’ office, you’ll never be seen,” he huffs and leans me against him so he can tap his watch. In seconds, he’s speaking on the device. “Kian? I need a favor. Prescott’s injured. Paralysis poison. Already gave a counterdrug, but I’m concerned it’ll trigger a seizure. Tell me where.”

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