Page 55 of Ruthless God

“Are you sure you’re the only one who knows about this island?” I ask. “Because you just said it was your twin who found it.”

Claudius’ entire demeanor changes. The air shifts. His jaw tightens. His hands curl into fists.

His voice is sharp and absolute when he says, “Gabriel is dead.”

But the way he says it? It’s not convincing. Not even to himself. Like he’s not sure. Like there’s a part of him that doubts it. That maybe, just maybe, his twin is still out there.

So I push a bit more.

“How do you know he’s dead?”

I see it the instant something snaps in Claudius. His whole body goes rigid and his breathing shifts, like he’s trying to keep something dangerous from spilling out.

Then he breaks.

“Because I killed him!”

His voice slams into me, raw and filled with something I can’t quite name, and I flinch.

“I pushed him off a cliff on this very island,” he continues, stepping closer, his eyes dark, haunted. “And I watched him fall to his fucking death.”

The jungle around us feels eerily silent, like even the trees and the wind know not to interrupt.

“That’s how I know.” His voice is lower now, but no less lethal. “Now drop it.”

I don’t move. I don’t breathe. My heart pounds, drowning out everything else. His words, the sound of leaves rustling, the distant hum of ocean waves… it all goes away.

He killed his own twin. His other half.

And now?

Now, I’m stuck here with him.

12

Cecely

Claudius finally spins and takes off, his pace shifting from controlled strides to a near impossible-to-keep-up-with hike.

I don’t say a word. I just struggle to keep up, my legs burning, my lungs screaming, sweat dripping down my back.

He’s mad.

Fine. I’m mad too.

But I shove it down, forcing my feet forward, because at this point, I’m running on pure spite. Just when I’m about to collapse, about to say I physically cannot take another step, the trees thin, and a mansion appears out of nowhere.

I stumble to a stop.

The house is massive. The stark white standing out against the deep green of the jungle. It’s sleek and modern, yet somehow still fitting into the wilderness. It’s the kind of place that screams wealth, power, secrecy.

But that’s not even what gets me.

It’s the helipad.

Sitting right next to the house.

I gawk at it, then at Claudius, then back at the helipad, my exhaustion replaced by a brand-new wave of rage.

---