Page 121 of Ruthless Kings of Havoc

Zander is losing it in laughter.

“Ah, I’ve missed this,” he finally hums as we enter the courtyard full of various groups of students. The environment is so familiar, yet you can feel the shift in the air upon our entry.The looks. The whispers. The curiosity matched with bouts of horror that we exist in this society.

Some students dare to bow to our approach, as though their royal statuses are nothing in comparison to the ones we carry absently.

The best way to describe it is wearing invisible crowns upon our heads that are acknowledged by many who know showing submission can lead them to some sort of privilege or avoidance of torment shortly.

Those who don’t want to acknowledge our status either have no clue who the fuck we are or are too stuck up and proud to even try.

Either way, I couldn't care less.

To walk among my Ruthless Kings right now feels like some sort of blessing. It’s hard to describe it. To feel this immense, overflowing sense of gratefulness that I’m trying not to get emotional thinking about it. Two and a half weeks ago, I could have been dead. I easily could be six feet under, mourned by so little because I’d yet to make some sort of statement in this vast world.

Very few would mourn my departure.

Even fewer would remember my name.

Greeting death may have been a wake-up call I needed, but it didn’t rid me of that lingering blanket of anxiety that proves I’ve done nothing to leave a legacy behind.

That must have been what my mother was fighting to achieve.

Coming from a poor family with no roots in the realms of wealth and fame leads you down a path of forgotten memories. All these Empires go as hard as they do because they want their names to be remembered. Their legacies are to be talked about, regardless of the years that follow when they’re no more.

It could also be why having an heir, or a number of heirs, is so vital.

The idea of having offspring that will be smart and cunning enough to walk down this vicious path and continue the legacy you left behind is so dear to them.

That’s such a gamble, though…

What if they don’t want it?

That they wish to disappear from this world of sinister intent and continuous desperation for power?

“Precious?”

I blink and turn my head to my right to see Matteo’s no longer walking in front of us but next to me and Zander.

Seeing him in a uniform seems so weird. I’ve seen him in suits almost my whole life. Even as a child, he’d always be in some sort of formal wear, even if it was dress pants and a dress shirt. Though our uniforms are professional, it’s still different enough that they heighten his appearance uniquely.

Unlike Zander’s vibe of greens and purples, Ares’ oranges and golds, or even Aries with his white, black, and hint of magenta combination, Matteo’s combination is the most vibrant and unexpected.

Red, white, black, and the keynoting color, pink.

It not only calms down his usual ‘deathly’ assertiveness, but it makes him look so much younger. A good five years at best.

Now he looks like Domino, only his hair is darker and has very few hints of red left from whatever highlight he did. I wonder if he’ll change it sooner or later. How he’d look with such vibrant shades.

I can only assume it would make him look even younger and more like a youthful man just trying to venture on a path toward a future filled with plentiful opportunities.

No one would know that he’s the CEO and Founder of various businesses.

Let alone running an entire Empire that dwells in the realms of the mafia.

“Yes, Ruthless King?” I finally answer him, but a glint further behind catches my attention.

It’s only for a second, yet every hair on my arms rises in warning. My body instincts react faster than my brain, so by the time the gunshot rings through the air, I’m grasping my new stance while my target is screaming in agony as they drop to the ground.

With their weapon bouncing off the cement floor.

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