Page 55 of Ruthless Kings of Obsession

His shoes make no sound on the marble steps as he ascends to the stage. The medicine Hannah gave me makes everything hyperfocused – I can see each silver thread in his perfectly styled hair, count every deliberate breath he takes. He moveslike a predator, reminding me where I learned to hunt before the Leightons taught me to kill.

"What a fascinating display of devotion," he muses, voice carrying that familiar aristocratic lilt that always made simple words sound like prophecies. "Two broken pieces finding their jagged edges fit together perfectly." His eyes – the same haunting blue as mine – scan the crowd before returning to Domino's kneeling form. "Rather romantic, in a deliciously twisted way."

Something in his tone makes my skin prickle with warning. I've seen that look before, usually right before he orchestrated someone's complete destruction. But why now? Why here?

"But I wonder," he continues, moving closer with casual grace that doesn't quite hide his deadly intent, "if opportunity presented itself, would you protect him? Your obsessed King who swears such pretty devotion?"

A laugh bubbles up from my throat before I can stop it – wild and sharp and maybe a little unhinged. The voices in my head whisper conflicting advice, but for once I ignore them all. "Protect him?" The words drip with amused contempt. "If the opportunity came to destroy him completely, I wouldn't hesitate." My smile shows too many teeth. "After all, only I have earned the right to end what I've so carefully broken."

"Interesting perspective." Something dark flashes in his eyes – approval maybe, or anticipation. He reaches into his jacket with deliberate slowness, drawing out a matte black handgun that looks too comfortable in his grip. "Care to prove it?"

The crowd's collective gasp seems to suck all the oxygen from the room. Even Saint Joaquin looks momentarily surprised, though his expression quickly shifts to calculating interest.

"Father," the word feels strange on my tongue after so many years, "are you suggesting I shoot my newly sworn King? Right here in front of everyone?" Another laugh escapes me, this oneedged with genuine amusement. "How delightfully dramatic of you."

"Why not?" He holds the gun out like an offering. "Unless you're all talk and no action. Unless this whole display of power is just another pretty mask you've learned to wear."

Just like you taught me, I think but don't say.All those lessons about appearances and deception before you sold me to the Leightons.

My hand reaches for the gun almost of its own accord. The weight feels familiar, comforting even. How many times had Zander guided these same fingers around similar weapons, teaching me to defend myself?

Zander.

The name sends a spike of pain through my chest so sharp I almost gasp. My father must see something change in my expression because his next words are pitched for my ears alone.

"Speaking of pretty masks," he murmurs, leaning close under pretense of adjusting my grip on the gun, "I heard about Benedict. Quite tragic, really. Taking two bullets for a woman who might let his killer live."

Ice floods my veins, making the world sharp enough to cut. "What did you say?"

"Oh?" His smile holds no warmth. "Hasn't anyone told you? Your precious King bled out in that alley. Alone. In the rain." Each word falls like a hammer blow. "While his killer walked away without a scratch."

The gun feels heavier now, weighted with new purpose. My eyes find Domino still kneeling on the marble floor, water dripping steadily from his ruined clothes. He meets my gaze without flinching, and I see understanding dawn in his expression.

"Eva," Ares' warning voice carries from behind me, but I barely hear it. All I can focus on is Domino's face – the face of the man who took everything from me.

He killed him. He killed my King. My protector. My perfect match in every broken way.

"See the truth in her eyes, boy," my father's voice carries subtle satisfaction. "See what real obsession looks like. Not your childish fixation with breaking her, but her absolute conviction in destroying you."

Domino doesn't look away as I raise the gun with steady hands, aiming directly at his head. The crowd seems to hold its collective breath, unable to believe this is really happening.

"Evangeline, don't—" Marcus this time, but his voice sounds distant, unimportant.

All I can see is Zander bleeding out in that alley. Zander who loved me exactly as I was – broken pieces and all. Zander who made me feel safe for the first time since childhood. Zander who died protecting me from the man now kneeling at my feet.

"I can see it now," Domino says softly, eyes never leaving mine. "Why you'll be Queen when this is over. You're truly as ruthless as they say."

My sweet, psychotic King died alone in the rain while I played games in a warehouse.

"Do it," Domino continues, a strange smile playing at his lips. "It has to be you. Always had to be you."

The voices in my head scream for blood, for vengeance, for completion of what we started so long ago. But beneath their chaos, I hear Zander's voice – that low, dangerous chuckle he'd give right before suggesting something wonderfully wicked.

"Make them suffer, Sweet Dynamite. Death is too easy."

My finger tightens on the trigger, and I watch Domino's eyes close in acceptance. He really believes I'm going to do it – goingto end our twisted story right here in front of everyone who matters in our world.

This is what you wanted, the thought comes with crystal clarity.To break him so completely that he'd welcome death from your hands.

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