Page 45 of Ruthless God

Gabriel.

The way he chased me. The way my pulse thundered in my ears, my breath ragged as I ran, knowing he was right behind me…hunting me.

My steps falter for half a second, my heart giving a sharp thump. Will Claudius follow? Will he give chase the way his brother did? I don’t dare look back. Instead, I keep walking,forcing my spine straight, keeping my pace measured, even as my pulse flutters with something I refuse to name.

But nothing happens.

No heavy footsteps. No dark presence closing in behind me.

Just the soft hum of the jet, the steady vibration beneath my feet as I reach the door at the back of the cabin. I slip inside and lock it behind me, exhaling.

Only then do I let myself react with a soft whimper escaping my lips as I take in the bed. Big. Plush. Luxurious in a way that mocks my exhaustion. I cross the room in three strides and throw myself onto the mattress, sinking into the softness with a sigh that borders on bliss.

For the first time in what feels like forever, I let my body relax.

At least for now.

Because sleep is coming for me fast.

And in sleep?

There’s nowhere left to run.

10

Claudius

With Cecely finally gone, I can get some work done. Or at least, I should be able to. But instead of focusing on the reports in front of me, my thoughts drift to her.

To the way she moved as she walked toward the bedroom.

There was something in it. Something subtle.

Not fear. Not quite.

But awareness.

Like she expected to be followed. Like some part of her was bracing for it. Wanting it…

And that did something to me.

My pulse had kicked up, sharp and sudden, at the sight of her disappearing down the narrow aisle. A dark part of me—one I rarely acknowledge—had whispered, Go after her. Just to see. Just to see what she’d do.

Would she run? Would she turn, her defiant eyes flashing? Would she try to fight?

I didn’t find out.

Of course, I didn’t.

I let her go.

I press my lips into a firm line and force my attention back to my work, my fingers tightening around the pen in my hand.

She’s nothing more than a job.

So why the hell do I already know the way her pulse flickers at the base of her throat when she’s agitated?

And why do I want to see it again?

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