Page 95 of Ruthless Kings of Obsession

Because that's what we are now, aren't they?

Some twisted, beautiful version of family.

Built on obsession and possession and things darker still, but family nonetheless.

The morning light follows us to the parking lot, turning Eva's silver hair almost white as she continues to vibrate with excitement.

My sister. My obsession. My Queen who somehow learned to love despite everything I did to break her.

And maybe that's why The Blind One's warning carries such weight. Because for the first time in years, I have something real to lose.

Something worth any price.

Even if that price is my own destruction.

Cage Me In

~GEMINI~

"I want to cage fight."

The announcement cuts through the private training room's focused atmosphere like a blade. Matteo pauses mid-strike, his fist frozen inches from the punching bag as he processes my words. Sweat glistens on his bare chest, evidence of the intense session I've been watching for the past hour.

Across the room, Ren stops his pull-ups, his muscled arms flexing as he hangs from the bar to look at me. His usual playboy smirk takes on a different quality as he watches me finish wrapping my hands, the bandages crisp and white against my skin.

"You're more... instinctive than I remember," he observes, something like appreciation coloring his tone. The way he says 'instinctive' carries layers of meaning – a polite way of saying I've grown more reckless, more willing to embrace the dangerous impulses we all carry.

I can't help the smirk that curves my lips as I secure the last wrap. "Keep doing your pull-ups," I tease, deliberately letting my gaze drift over his exposed torso. "That four-pack is struggling."

His gasp of mock horror echoes through the high-ceilinged space. "I'll have you know," he protests, swinging slightly on the bar, "I obviously have a six-pack. The top abs are just... shy. Hiding after too many pastries at the photoshoot."

The mention of the shoot makes something warm unfurl in my chest. Watching Ares work his magic in front of those cameras had been nothing short of extraordinary. The way he transformed – not just physically, but energetically – into something that transcended mere modeling.

The photographer had been almost reverent, treating each shot like he was capturing lightning in a bottle. And in a way, he was. Because Ares wasn't just posing – he was commanding the space, owning every angle, every shadow, every flash of light that dared try to define him.

"It was amazing, wasn't it?" I say softly, remembering how the studio had fallen completely silent during certain moments. How even the most jaded fashion executives had leaned forward, unable to look away from what was happening before their lenses.

TIME Magazine's creative director had actually cried during one particular sequence. Actual tears, streaming down her face as Ares moved through a series of poses that somehow managed to convey both strength and vulnerability, power and grace, darkness and light.

"He's going to change everything," she'd whispered, dabbing at her eyes with an expensive silk handkerchief. "The industry, the art form, the whole damn game."

And she was right. Because watching from the sidelines, I'd seen something I'd never fully appreciated before – just how completely my King owned his power. Not just physical beauty, though God knows he has that in spades, but something deeper. Something that made every person in that studio recognize they were witnessing the birth of an icon.

"They offered him the cover right there," I continue, pride making my voice slightly rough. "Didn't even wait to review the shots. Just knew they had something extraordinary."

Ren drops from the pull-up bar with practiced grace, reaching for a towel to wipe the sweat from his face. "Our pretty boy's going to be more than just a King now," he observes, though there's no jealousy in his tone – just genuine appreciation. "He's going to be fucking legendary."

"Language," Matteo chides automatically, finally lowering his fist from its frozen position. But I catch the slight curve of his lips, the pride he's trying to hide behind his usual composed mask.

Because that's what we are now – this strange, beautiful family built on obsession and possession and things darker still. We celebrate each other's victories like they're our own, take pride in each other's triumphs as if we've all somehow won together.

"Still want to cage fight?" Ren asks, breaking through my reminiscing as he approaches the training mats. His grin turns dangerous as he adds, "Or were you just trying to get my attention with that four-pack comment?"

I crack my knuckles deliberately, enjoying how the sound echoes through the space. "Oh, I definitely want to fight," I confirm, moving onto the mats with measured grace. "The question is: are you ready to get your ass handed to you by a girl?"

"Do you even know how to cage fight?" Matteo asks Ren, his voice carrying that subtle edge of authority that makes everything sound like both question and challenge.

Ren's usual playful demeanor shifts slightly as he nods. "Yeah," he says, something darker entering his tone. "My cousin used to cage fight. Taught me everything he knew."

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