Page 4 of Ruthless Kings of Havoc

Maybe this is just another form of betrayal when you look at things.

“The Bunny Stalker,” Zander announces, as if that’s truly this man’s identity. I don’t know how he specifically got that name for him, but alas. Here we are. “We finally meet face to face. Though can’t see shit with that bunny mask on.”

“You speak as if you don’t have a mask addiction of your own,” he responds in a cool tone, but I sense he’s speaking more dismissively.

As though none of these conversations matter to him.

“Sweet Precious Gem.”

I swallow the lump in my throat as my eyes continue to stare down at the pool of blood forming from the flowing droplets from the newly created wounds on my fist.

My body trembles—head pounding, heart beating so fucking fast, I’m frightened at the idea of it just giving up. My blurry vision only grows, tears threatening to overspill down my already flushed cheeks.

This wasn’t how I wanted to meet my Bunny Stalker.

I wonder if he knows it because a gentle feel of silk wraps around my eyes, laced across and tied at the back with such gentleness.

I’m captivated by the action.

“Lift your head, my Queen.”

I do what I’m asked, lifting my head despite the absence of sight. The lack of sense only heightens the others, which is why it’s easy for me to envision the room I’m standing in. I grasp the sound of shifting footsteps and how the presence from behind is now in front of me.

The touch to my hand makes me flinch, but I realize Bunny Stalker is trying to see how bad the damage is to my hands. I’m surprised he’s not scolding me for my short temper or disappointed in my inability to control my emotions.

Why isn’t he bringing me down? His brother would enjoy taking the opportunity to do just that.

“Why don’t we get these cleaned and wrapped?” His voice is so tender. “A Ruthless Queen shouldn’t spill blood. It only proves her Kings have failed her.”

“M-My…” My voice is raw and brittle, but I fight with everything to say what needs to be stated here and now.I have to acknowledge the truth.“M-Mine betrayed me.”

The silence is expected, and I’m sure Zander and Ares may feel hurt, as if I’m grouping them into my statement, but I can’t correct myself now. I’m too mentally exhausted to try.

“When a leader fails you, the whole team is dragged to the pits of hell,” he whispers. I feel his closeness, the trail of his lips along my cheek. “But I feel as though two of your Kings deserve a chance at redemption, don’t you?”

He makes sense, but my silence must be deemed unforgiving.

Feeling a finger wipe away a tear that runs down my cheek only sets more free. The blindfold isn’t tight enough to stop my tears, which seems funny to me.

Does he want to memorize how pitiful I must look? Blindfolded, with tear-stricken flushed cheeks and brittle bruised lips that tremble uncontrollably. I must look beyond pitiful. A disgrace for someone confident that being a Ruthless Queen would lead to a path of victory, not this path of agonizing turmoil.

“I know you have forgiveness in you, Precious,” he whispers.

I’m surprised by how his lips kiss my left cheek. Then my right. Finally, my forehead. That kiss lingers a bit longer, the touch relaxing me slightly.

“When one is misguided onto a path of forced loyalty, you must hold a sense of sympathy. No one likes to be hidden from the truth.”

He’s right. I know he is.

Yet…

Arms encircle me, and the rich scent of cologne mixed with musk, oud, and hints of gunpowder. The embrace isn’t tight, just enough to say, ‘I’m here,’ but without that suffocating sensation. It’s as though he’s waiting for me to give permission to deepen the embrace.

What surprises me is that I melt into his hold, as though this very action is not foreign but a repeated embrace my mind, body, and soul remember from long ago.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner, Precious?” he whispers. It only takes me a few added seconds to realize he spoke those words in Russian.

Just like all those years ago.

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