Page 49 of Ruthless Kings of Obsession

He reaches my right side, but instead of taking his position quietly, he plucks the microphone from my hand with practiced ease. His smile carries all the danger of a predator playing with its food.

"Ladies and gentlemen," his voice smooth as aged whiskey, "please don't mind me. I'm just the golden retriever ex-boyfriend trying to get a second chance with his girl." He ends with anexaggerated wink that somehow manages to be both charming and threatening.

Laughter ripples through the crowd, but it's tinged with uncertainty. They can't quite reconcile the playboy persona with the calculating look in his eyes.

"He must be after Prescott?—"

"Always had a thing for her, even back then?—"

"Classic playboy move, joining the Kings to get close to her?—"

If they only knew how many bodies we'd left behind at the warehouse just hours ago. How efficiently he'd handled that female officer. How naturally violence came to him beneath the carefree facade.

Ren hands the microphone back to me with another wink, this one private, sharing the joke of how easily people believe what they want to see.

"This should fulfill the requirement," I state, but Saint Joaquin's expression remains unreadable.

"Perhaps," he says slowly, "except for one rather crucial detail." His eyes scan the ballroom. "Where is your Maiden?"

The question hangs in the air like smoke, reminding us all that even with three Kings present, we're still missing our Queen.

The Queen's Entrance

~GEMINI~

"Where is your Maiden?"

Saint Joaquin's question carries through the heavy curtains, making my lips curve into a smirk. The remnants of the hallucinogen still pulse through my system, but the shadows have retreated to more manageable whispers.

Hannah holds out a small tablet, pale blue and innocent-looking despite its potency. "This will give you about fifteen minutes of clarity," she says, her usual efficiency tinged with genuine concern. "It's fast-acting but intense. You should take it with?—"

I snatch the tablet and toss it back, swallowing dry before she can finish offering water. Her answering smirk is equal parts approval and exasperation.

"Show-off."

We both turn our attention to the crack in the curtains, watching Ares stand tall in his blood-red suit. The stage lights catch the gold threading, making him look like he's been dipped in flames.

"Is it truly necessary to have her present?" His voice carries just the right note of casual dismissal.

"She owes me a favor from our last encounter," Saint Joaquin responds smoothly, and I can hear the trap in his words. "She should fulfill my request to appear before this grand gala that has so patiently awaited your arrival."

Ares' head tilts slightly – a gesture I recognize from countless photoshoots when he's about to turn the tables. "Are you certain you wish to use your favor on such a... simplistic request?"

The crowd erupts in outraged whispers.

"How dare he?—"

"Questioning Saint Joaquin?—"

"Who does he think he is?—"

But I catch the slight tension in Joaquin's shoulders, the barely perceptible pause that tells me Ares has scored a point in whatever game they're playing.

"If the favor is to request our Ruthless Maiden's presence," Ares shrugs with elegant indifference, "so be it." He gestures toward the curtain with theatrical flourish.

"Break a leg," Hannah murmurs beside me.

A laugh escapes my lips, slightly wild from the drugs racing through my system. "Hopefully not. I need them both to show these vultures why I deserve to be their Ruthless Queen of Obsession."

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