Page 2 of King of Ruin

We all walk to the small kitchen, where Mommy makes a quick bottle and hums as she twirls around the kitchen. Her belly narrowly misses bumping into the counter four times, and each time she giggles. “Drop those tight shoulders, Zeky. I’m not going to hit Bunny.”

I blow out the air I’m holding in my cheeks and do as I’m told, letting my shoulders fall, but keep my eyes on baby B. We call her Bunny because when I put my hand on her tummy, it always seems like she’s kicking both feet out at the same time.

After Fi finishes her bottle, her eyes become droopy. We head back to the room for Mommy to read the story again and put her to sleep, but stop short when the sound of a car door shutting rings in the air. The hair on my neck stands up and my skin feels like a thousand ants are marching around, nipping at me every few steps.

A few seconds later, two heavy knocks echo through the small house, and the light sound of splitting wood tells me that the man is mad I’m not standing at the door waiting for him.

My mom’s brows bunch together, the worry in her features making my heart squeeze tight. Even baby Fi hides her face in Mommy’s neck.

“It’s okay, Mommy. I’ll be back at the same time tomorrow. Not a minute later.” I try to keep my voice light and happy. I don’t want her to be sad when she needs to think about the new baby.

She lifts a sleepy Fi higher on her hip before nodding. “I love you, Zeky.”

“I love you, too.”

I slip out of my room, and rush to the front door, grabbing my jacket that’s slung over the couch. When I unlock the bolt, the wood swings open to reveal the bald man and his grumpy stare.

“I don’t like waiting, kid.”

I clamp my teeth down on my bottom lip to keep from apologizing and nod. One of the first lessons my dad ever taught me was to never say sorry.Ever. It means weakness and tells the world you made a mistake.

The Murphysnevermake mistakes.

I brush past him to the long, black car that used to remind me of a celebrity’s, but now looks more like the thing that carries dead people.

Maybe it is.

But tonight, no matter what happens, tomorrow won’t be so bad because when I get home, I’ll get to meet Bunny in the afternoon.

And protecting the three of them will make everything worth it.

Nothing and no one will ever change that.

Iam many things, but a fool, I have never been.

Since my parents’ murder, I’ve moved quietly, been meticulous, and acted carefully in order to bring my plan of vengeance–no, ofjustice–to fruition. Even with the persistent theft and murder of my guards, I never acted impulsively, or made a misstep that would potentially put my plan in jeopardy.

Yet, here I am.

My head is pounding, my wrists are chafed and raw from the metal cuffs affixed to my flesh, and the sticky blood that’s soaked through my corset and slacks is beginning to make my skin itch. I’m covered in darkness; with only myself, the sounds of faraway footsteps, and an incessant drip of water on the cement floor, as company. Judging by the dryness in my mouth and the contorted growl of my stomach, it’s been at least ten to twelve hours since my capture.

I need to figure out where I am, but the tempo of the leaking pipes is near maddening, so I let my mind wander to keep me grounded.

Grounded. Such a simple idea, yet a hard feat to accomplish when my mind is riddled with images of Kilo’s mangled legs, my butler’s shattered body, and of Kane.

Kane.

My chest tightens at the same time a horrific cackle erupts from my cracked lips, reminding me that I allowed amanto make me appear to be a fool after all.

Iknewwhat he was. The moment I saw him, I knew he would be my undoing if I let him. Granted, I never once thought he was thesonof the man who ordered my parents to be slaughtered, but I was well aware that he would somehow be the reason I fell from my throne.

I should have followed my gut, kept him at arm’s length, and killed him when the job was done. But I let his shadows encroach around me, hindering my ability to see anything but him. I began to rely on the relief he granted me when he took control of the things I held onto so tightly my hands bled.

He was an illusion of solace. A glimmer of light when all I had known for the past decade is darkness. And he knew that.

He examined my armor for the hint of a weak spot, and when he found it, he embedded himself beneath and exploited it, breaking it from within.

A job well done, even I can admit that.

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