Page 50 of Ruthless Kings of Obsession

The medicine hits suddenly, clearing my head with brutal efficiency. Every nerve comes alive, every sense sharpening to painful clarity. I can feel the weight of Knifey strapped to my thigh beneath the dress Hannah somehow procured, sense the lingering aches from the warehouse fight, taste blood from my split lip that no amount of makeup could fully hide.

But most importantly, I can feel the power thrumming through my veins – the same darkness that helped me orchestrate Domino's downfall, that drew these dangerous mento my side, that makes kings and queens whisper my name in fear.

The medicine surges through my system like liquid lightning, burning away the fog of hallucinogens and replacing it with crystal clarity. My thoughts sharpen, the pounding in my head receding to a manageable whisper instead of the deafening roar that had made consciousness a struggle.

The heavy curtains part before me like waves breaking, and I step into the spotlight with practiced grace. My entrance is met with audible gasps – some of appreciation, others of shock. The custom gown Hannah somehow manifested is a masterpiece of Swarovski crystals, an ombre creation that shifts from midnight blue to blood red with every movement. It hugs my frame like a second skin, though I catch the whispers about my recent weight loss.

"She's so thin?—"

"Look at those bruises?—"

"Are those cuts real?"

The black bandages adorning my arms match the ones worn by my Kings, a unified display of whatever battle we've supposedly survived. It's almost poetic how they complement the crystals, turning my wounds into deliberate accessories.

I catch Ares' gaze first – the way his eyes travel from my silver hair (artfully arranged to hide where blood had matted it) down to my stilettos. There's pride in his expression, but also concern hidden beneath his model's perfect mask. He knows exactly how much effort it's taking for me to stand upright.

His hand extends toward me immediately, and I place mine in his with deliberate grace. His lips brush my knuckles in a gesture that looks courtly but feels like a question:Are you okay?

The microphone appears in his other hand, offered with subtle support as I turn to address our audience. "Saint Joaquin,Mr. Leighton," I greet them with carefully measured respect. "I understand I owe you a favor, and I wouldn't dream of dwelling further after we've already taken so much of everyone's valuable time."

My voice carries just the right note of apologetic charm. "I must apologize for our tardiness. It's rather difficult to arrive punctually when someone attempts to assassinate you and your Kings." I gesture to my decorated injuries with a rueful smile. "But naturally, I couldn't let that succeed."

"She must be joking?—"

"An assassination attempt?"

"This has to be theatre?—"

A laugh escapes my lips, genuine amusement at their disbelief. "Would I really attend such a prestigious event sporting bruised arms? It would be a disservice." I pause for effect. "But alas, when Saint Joaquin requests a favor, one must honor it with utmost respect."

The crowd waits for Saint Joaquin's reaction to my borderline insolence, expecting anger or at least irritation. Instead, his smile spreads slowly, like a predator appreciating worthy prey.

"Well played, my dear," he chuckles, genuine amusement dancing in his dark eyes. "You remind me so much of another Queen from years past."

The whispers start immediately:

"He must mean Prescott's wife?—"

"The only other Ruthless Queen to make it this far?—"

"But she disappeared, didn't she?"

Saint Joaquin raises his hand for silence, commanding attention without effort. "Given the... extraordinary circumstances, I'll dismiss the absence of Mr. Leighton and Mr. Benedict."

The name sends a spike of pain through my chest that has nothing to do with physical injuries. I force the thought away –Zander, bleeding out in an alley, Zander's last kiss, Zander's final words– knowing if I let that reality sink in, I'll shatter right here on stage.

***"Focus on revenge. Focus on power. Grieve later."***

The voices in my head are right, for once. I can't think about Zander now. Can't think about how I'll never see that manic smile again, never feel his arms around me, never hear him call me his Sweet Dynamite?—

"My dear," Saint Joaquin's voice cuts through my dangerous thoughts, "are you ready to show everyone why you deserve to be crowned their Ruthless Queen of Obsession?"

I lift my chin, letting them all see the dangerous glint in my eyes that matches my Kings'. "I thought I already had."

The crowd shifts uncomfortably, no doubt thinking of the viral video that brought down Domino. Of the whispered rumors about disappearances and accidents that seem to follow in my wake. Of the way even their precious Saint Joaquin treats me with careful consideration.

A Queen who has nothing left to lose is the most dangerous piece on the board.

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