Page 14 of Ruthless Kings of Obsession

"Z-Zander?" My voice sounds foreign, stripped of its usual confidence, but no one dares pay mind because they’re focusing their energy on Zander. Doing something to bring him back to life.

Doing anything but standing here…

Rain soaks through my expensive suit as I stand frozen, watching Matteo and Marcus attempt CPR. It’s crazy how I bared amazing news — being recruited to one of the top modeling agencies globally — only to watch my fellow friend’s breathless fight to get Zander to breathe again.

My hands tremble at my sides, useless, just like how I feel.

I don't know how to save him…but I realize that’s a lie.

It’s not like I don’t know.

I’m scared.

Frightened down to the core to try and help and fuck everything up…because this isn’t my element of expertise. This isn’t what I can manipulate and take control of in the act of uncertainty.

Modeling, I can control with a mere switch in my gait or a tilt in my head. I can change various poses, expressions, clothing, and environments. I can change the lighting, whether rain or shine, and be successful in getting the final product I’m yearning for.

But this…

How does one change death?

For all my carefully crafted images, all the magazine covers and runway shows, I'm completely fucking helpless when it really matters. I can't even properly hold a gun — something Zander tried teaching me countless times after I failed my attempts with Aries.

Now it makes sense.

Why I’m the younger brother Aries protected from our merciless empire and the power that comes with it.

I always envied his strive and the favoritism he gets in situations like these, but unlike me who’s currently standing here like some sort of ghost, he would have been jumping into action like Matteo and Marcus who don’t think twice when a situation has altered entirely out of their control.

No matter what happens, they reclaim those reigns of power and whip them until they’re the ones riding on the path to victory.

“C’mon, Zayn!” Marcus curses. “Fuck. We need…we need Epinephrine. Fuck… it’s in my bag. It’s too far to go and come back.”

“Keep compressing,” Theo who’s on the phone urges, just as Matteo gives another blow of air into Zander’s mouth. They’re both giving this their all; Matteo struggling to catch his breathwhile Marcus is drenched in sweat and fighting hard to breathe out of exertion.

“H-How long has it been?” Marcus asks.

“Five minutes.” Theo’s voice sounded so concerned. I bet he feels helpless being so far away, and yet I’m here.

Present.

I can do something.

"Keep…going," Matteo orders through gritted teeth, his own injury forgotten as he breathes air into Zander's lungs. Seeing his right arm hanging uselessly makes my stomach turn, but it makes me realize that despite his injury, he’s still trying his best.

He is giving Zander his all, despite barely knowing him.

That’s what pushes away the pounding fear. What urges me to stop being a coward protected by game and fortune and to get my hands dirty for the sake of resurrection my best friend?

My fellow Ruthless King.

Yeah, I’m a broken fucker who has walked a more lavished and pampered life thanks to my bodyguard of an older brother for being the blacksheep of the family, but I can’t remain a Ruthless King unless I stand up to my fears and allow my hands to soak in blood as my brothers have done.

We're all broken in some way, and it’ll only get worse.

And that’s okay.

For survival doesn’t mean perfection.

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