Page 94 of Ruthless Kings of Obsession

"Recruited by who?" Eva demands, and God help me but the new haircut makes it impossible to hide how her eyes light up with genuine curiosity. No more hiding behind curtains of silver – every micro-expression plays across her features with devastating clarity.

Ares's answering grin carries real pride as he announces, "IMG Models. The shoot's actually for TIME Magazine." He shrugs with deliberate casualness that doesn't quite hide his excitement. "Probably the rarest opportunity someone my age has gotten."

Eva's squeal of pure joy should irritate me. Should make me want to remind her of her position, her power, the careful image we've all worked to maintain. Instead, I find myself fighting a smile as she launches herself at Ares with unrestrained enthusiasm.

"Stop wasting time!" She starts pushing him toward the parking lot, and the sight of our deadly Queen literally manhandling one of her Kings makes something warm unfurl in my chest. "Move your ass back to the car!"

This is what we took from her, a voice whispers in my mind.This pure, unfiltered joy. This ability to just be excited for someone else's success.

Ares laughs, the sound rich and genuine as he allows her manhandling. "Why are you pushing? I can just get Ren to drive me on his bike."

"Hell no!" Eva protests immediately, and there's my sister – the one who existed before I taught her to hide everything real behind careful masks. "I'm coming too!"

"You can't miss class?—"

"I can miss whatever I want," she declares with that absolute certainty that makes her such a dangerous Queen, "if it means supporting my Ruthless King's success."

Marcus's laugh carries genuine amusement that makes me shift uncomfortably. When did they all become so comfortable with each other? When did this strange family start forming around the girl I spent years trying to break?

"We might as well all skip at this point," Marcus observes, running a hand through his dark blue hair. "Damn, I'm tired anyway."

"Could use a nap," Zander agrees, and I have to force myself not to flinch at his voice. The memory of pulling that trigger still haunts me, even knowing he survived.

Matteo's shrug carries elegant indifference that reminds me too much of Father. "The first three periods aren't particularly important or mandatory." His eyes find mine, and I hate how easily he includes me: "Coming with?"

I should say no. Should maintain some distance from this strange family they've built. Should remember that I'm only here because Eva decided to make me another piece in her game.

But my muttered "sure" emerges before I can stop it.

As our group moves toward the parking lot, I can't help glancing back at Amara. The fury building in her golden gaze sends ice through my veins – not because of any threat she personally poses, but because I know exactly who sent her.

A guinea pig, my mind whispers traitorously,from the man I desperately don't want to face when payment comes due.

The morning light catches her artificial irises one last time before she disappears into the crowd, but the warning in them remains crystal clear: The Blind One hasn't forgotten what I owe.

I follow my strange new family toward the parking lot, watching Eva practically bounce with excitement over Ares's news. Her new haircut catches light with every movement, emphasizing how freely she expresses her joy. No more hiding behind long silver strands – every emotion plays across her features like art.

"TIME Magazine," she keeps saying, glowing with pride that makes my chest ache. "My King's going to be in TIME!"

When did she learn to love so freely? To support so completely? To move between deadly Queen and proud sister with such natural grace?

Not from you, that voice whispers again.You only taught her pain.

The whispers follow us like autumn leaves in the wind:

"Did they just decide to skip class?"

"For a photoshoot?"

"And they're taking Barbieri with them?"

"What about that girl with the golden eyes?"

But none of that matters compared to the weight settling in my chest. Because I know what Amara's presence means. Know that The Blind One is watching, waiting, preparing to collect on deals made in moments of desperate weakness.

Our progression toward the parking lot carries its own kind of beauty – each King finding their natural position around our Queen, with Scarlett somewhat awkwardly but definitely included in our orbit.

I remain slightly apart, my thoughts heavy with implications of golden eyes and debts coming due. Even as I follow this strange combustion of individuals toward whatever adventure awaits, I can't shake the feeling that everything is about to change.

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