Page 192 of Ruthless Kings of Havoc

Those willing to go over and beyond to secure and sustain our vibrant connection will prove again and again that I’m worthy of it all.

A beep pulls me out of my thoughts, encouraging me to walk to the chamber in the tree to retrieve the final step in this challenge. My note is a lot smaller than Zander’s, but when Iunfold the piece of paper, I stare at the single sentence in tiny letters.

“Follow your instincts,” I read out loud and stare at the piece, waiting for something else to show up.

Frowning, I look around, trying to see if the ‘house along the path’ is relatively nearby or at least visible in some way.Like a glimpse of the roof or the fencing or something.Glancing up, I wonder if there are even tree houses in this part.

A droplet falls from the sky and onto my left cheek, rolling down my flesh.

“Rain?” I whisper as another droplet descends onto my face.

More droplets fall from the sky, but I can’t help but continue to stare upward and appreciate their chilled touch. I should get moving so I don’t get sick, but then again, the note did say I should follow my instincts.

“In the middle of a forest…why would I need to follow my instincts?” I whisper to myself and lower my gaze to the peer at the note one last time.

My eyes widen immediately, watching the last bit of dark red bleed to the surface of the sheet that’s on the verge of crumbling. Scanning the capital letters in their zig-zag-like font, I feel the way my heart begins to hammer against my chest.

“RUN.”

I let the three-letter word out into existence as I immediately realize two things.

This isn’t red ink…

Zigzag writing…

“Zander!” I call out his name while my eyes dart to the path toward this apparent house.

It’s where I’m about to head when I hear a gunshot pierce the air. I dare to believe it’s a hallucination or dare to say a distraction, but two more shots ring out, and I know exactly which direction it’s coming from.

North. In the north.

I don’t think.

My arms are moving just like my legs, my body bolting into a full-out sprint. My breathing, matched with my panic, has my chest burning far too quickly, my lungs dying for air as I push myself hard.

I try to tame my breaths and swallow the immense panic and fear coursing through me at the idea of Zander being hurt, at the chance Ares or even Matteo are injured.

The idea pushes me forward as I face the uneven path beneath my feet with my black Prada combat shoes. I’m grateful to Ares for picking them up for me, the comfortability making this journey less sufferable on my feet in comparison to how this wild hunt is doing to the rest of my body.

My mind is thinking of all the possibilities and how I’m suddenly angered by the idea of anyone hurting any of my Kings.

Especially Zander.

I’m not going to lie that I have my favorite, and maybe that’s what whoever plotted this decided to use against me, but God. They better be religious and pray for a fucking miracle.

Because when I catch them, they’re fucking dead.

I see a flicker of light in the distance, making me realize that it has to be a car.

A getaway car.

“No, you fucking don’t!” I scream as my head pounds in urgency.

My ears are ringing.

My heart is pumping.

My legs burn from the lactic acid buildup.

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