Page 92 of Ruthless Kings of Obsession

Her answering smirk carries echoes of madness that match my own. I let her go abruptly, turning my attention to our wannabe assassin. The fake gun is still in my other hand, and I use it to yank her forward – lifting her briefly off her feet before letting her drop unceremoniously.

Her shriek of indignation follows the weapon's arc as I throw it into the furthest fountain. Water splashes, creating ripplesthat distort the morning light while I let out a frustrated grunt that carries years of complexity.

The whispers start immediately, spreading through the gathered crowd like wildfire:

"Did you see that?"

"Domino Leighton just saved her..."

"I heard he begged Prescott for forgiveness..."

"Maybe the rumors about rehab were true..."

Their speculation means nothing compared to the way Eva watches me with those knowing eyes. The new haircut makes her gaze impossible to escape, highlighting every nuance of her expression as she catalogs my intervention.

The fountain swallows the fake weapon, turning it into just another piece of debris in its carefully choreographed rush of water.

Everything about this moment feels wrong – me playing protector, Eva standing fearless in the face of threat, our unwanted visitor's golden eyes watching it all with calculated interest. The roles have shifted, the game evolved into something neither of us fully understands.

But one thing remains absolutely clear: no one gets to threaten my stepsister except me.

The confetti continues to fall, coating Eva's shoulders like colorful snow, making this moment feel even more surreal. She tilts her head slightly, studying me with an expression I can't quite read – something between amusement and calculation, between recognition and warning.

The gathered students continue their documentation, their phones capturing every detail of this latest development in our complicated story. They'll analyze it later, frame by frame, looking for clues about what's really happening between their fallen King and risen Queen.

Let them look. Let them wonder. Let them try to understand the twisted bonds that make me save the very person I once tried to destroy.

Some obsessions transcend simple definitions of love and hate.

Some stories can't be captured in whispered rumors and social media posts.

Some madness demands both salvation and destruction, protection and possession, all wrapped in one continuous act of mutual assured devastation.

Domino turns to Matteo, frustration evident in every line of his body. "Why didn't you interfere?" The question emerges more accusation than inquiry, hanging in the confetti-dusted air between them.

Matteo's approach is pure calculated grace – each step measured, deliberate, carrying that same deadly elegance that makes their father so formidable. He moves like someone who knows exactly how much power he holds, who never needs to rush because the world will wait for him.

That quality has always made Domino's blood boil – the way Matteo can embody their father's most dangerous traits while making them entirely his own. Where Domino burns hot with obvious rage, Matteo simmers with something colder, more precise.

He takes his place behind Eva, smoothly replacing where Domino stood moments before. His hand finds her throat with practiced possessiveness, but unlike Domino's forceful grip, his touch carries an intimacy that makes several students shift uncomfortably. His fingers rest against her pulse point with deliberate pressure, not forcing but inviting her to tilt her head back and meet his gaze.

Eva complies without hesitation, looking up into eyes that hold equal parts ownership and appreciation. The morning lightcatches her new haircut, making the silver strands shimmer as Matteo studies her upturned face with obvious hunger.

"Is my wife okay?" he asks, deliberately drawing out each word so the gathered crowd catches every syllable. The possessive pronoun falls like a gauntlet between them all – a reminder of exactly who holds the strongest claim.

"I'm fine," Eva responds, her blood-red lips curving into a smile that holds secrets only Matteo seems to understand.

"Why didn't you freak out?" His thumb traces patterns against her throat, the gesture somehow more intimate than Domino's earlier kiss.

Her answer carries perfect logic wrapped in lethal grace: "Today everyone was scanned for weapons. Only those with blades were allowed in." Her voice remains steady despite Matteo's deliberately distracting touch. "All guns or forms of weaponry were forced to be left behind, only to be collected after class. If her gun was snuck in, she wouldn't have made it past the courtyard – especially given the metal detectors we just walked through."

The gathered crowd shifts as understanding dawns, whispers gaining new appreciation for their Queen's calculating mind. But Matteo's rare grin suggests he expected nothing less from his chosen match.

"Good girl," he whispers against her lips, the words carrying enough heat to make several students fan themselves. Without warning, he claims her mouth in a kiss that makes Domino's earlier display look almost chaste in comparison.

Matteo takes his time, his hand still possessive against Eva's throat while the other tangles in her newly shortened hair. The kiss deepens with deliberate intent – his tongue claiming, exploring, marking territory that's already undeniably his.

Students shift and whisper, phones recording every moment of this public display of ownership:

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