Page 51 of Ruthless God

That’s the only explanation for what Claudius is saying to me at this very moment.

“It’s about an hour's hike.”

I blink at him, hoping I misheard. Hoping the helicopter’s loud-ass rotors somehow distorted his words, twisting them into something ridiculous. But no. He’s standing there, arms crossed, looking completely serious.

“I’m sorry,” I say slowly, my voice hollow with disbelief. “We’re going to…?”

His lips twitch like he’s enjoying this.

“Hike to the house,” he says smoothly.

I stare at him. Then at the jungle stretching endlessly beyond the clearing. Then back at him.

Nope.

I laugh, a short, breathy sound that holds absolutely no amusement. “You’re funny. Really. Okay, joke’s over. Where’sthe actual transportation to the house? Golf cart? Car? Anything?”

His expression doesn’t change.

My stomach drops.

“Oh my God.” My breath leaves me. “You’re not joking.”

He shakes his head, clearly unfazed by my rapidly growing horror.

I look down at myself. I’m wearing leggings, boots, and a t-shirt. I dressed for comfort, not survival.

“Claudius,” I say, voice carefully measured, “Do I look like someone who hikes?”

He gives me a slow, deliberate once-over, then shrugs. “You’ll learn.”

I could kill him.

I want to kill him.

Instead, I inhale sharply, tilting my head toward the sky like maybe, just maybe, divine intervention will swoop in and rescue me from this nightmare.

It doesn’t.

Claudius grabs a backpack from the helicopter, slings it over his shoulder, and gestures toward the tree line like this is just another day for him.

“Let’s go, Cecely. Before it gets too hot. Don’t forget to grab your bag.”

Too hot? It already feels like I’m wrapped in a humid death trap. And my bag? The one that weighs a ton? There’s no way I can carry it. I groan, dragging my hands down my face.

“This is actually my worst nightmare.”

He steps forward, eyes glinting with something dark and knowing. “This is nothing.”

I go into a weird mixture of survival mode and pure, unfiltered rage as I grab my backpack from the helicopter.

Survival mode because—fine. If I have to do this, I’ll do it. I’ll grit my teeth, suffer through, and somehow make it out of this jungle trek alive.

And pissed off because—seriously? I didn’t sign up for this. No one said anything about hiking through a goddamn rainforest just to get to a house. What kind of psychopath owns three islands and doesn’t even have a road leading to his front door? Claudius, that’s who.

I yank the straps over my shoulders with way too much aggression, my jaw tight as I stomp forward.

Claudius barely reacts. Just watches me with that obnoxiously smug look on his face before turning and leading the way into the trees. Oh, he’s enjoying this. That realization makes me even more pissed off.

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