Page 26 of King of Ruin

Never once have I questioned my choices. The decisions I’ve made for my family.

I am the necessary evil to end all evil, and up until a few weeks ago, I haveneverswayed.

Yet the man in front of me has brought to question what I would do if he had one foot on white and one foot on black and the line was no longer clear. He’s mixed the colors together, leaving the space in which he stands a muddled hue of gray.

“I’m sorry.”

Kane’s simple phrase catches me so off guard I don’t have enough time to hide the shock that snaps my brows together and parts my lips. “I must have heard you incor–”

He shakes his head before racking a hand through his thick locks. “No, you didn’t. I have a deep understanding of how what I have to say will fall on deaf ears, but if I don’t say it…”

Kane rises to his feet, drawing out the two water bottles from his pockets and taking a step toward me. My blood surges in my ears as he nears, my pulse the only audible sound as he drops both of them near my hands.

He’s so close I could touch him. I could reach toward him and yank him down, render him unconscious and steal the key from his pocket. It wouldn’t be easy, but possible.

So why are my hands still in my lap? Why is my pulse thrumming in my neck? Why do I want to hear what he has to say?

He steps back, alleviating my mind of its internal questioning, and sighs. “I never wanted to help Phineas. Before I knew his grand scheme, I wanted no part of it. And that was before I even knew it had anything to do with you. But when I met you? All of you–”

He draws in another deep breath, and it’s then that I notice the shadows under his eyes. Just like the growing scruff on his face, the dark circles are growing more profound each time I see him.

“Phineas had offered something I couldn’t refuse. Something I’d have killed half this city to get. I went to you with an end goal in mind. Hell, I figured you and my father were different threads of the same blanket. I never expected to care about you. I never thought I’d risk everything on the small fragment of hope that you’d hear me out rather than kill me. But in the end, I decided the chance was worth it. Becauseyou’reworth it.”

A sharp pain radiates across my jaw as my molars crack under my tight clamp. This is a game. He’s playing games. He can’t…

I can’tbelievehim.

Ican’tbelieve him.

The burn at the edges of my eyes threatens to show him just how much his words affect me. How I want so fucking badly to trust the man that has brought me peace. Who stopped the screaming.

My eyes flash to him with the intent to say something.Anything. But nothing comes to the surface.

Instead of responding he nods, collects the two empty water bottles and plate from yesterday, and turns to leave.

But before he shuts the door the only words I can find tumble past my lips. “What did he offer you, Kane?”

He hesitates, but only briefly. When the heavy metal door swings closed, I hear his fading whisper.“Saoirse.”

Time. Most people feel as though they don’t have enough. Some wish it away, looking forward to the future, while others dwell in the past and become stuck in its muck, unable to move forward. But when you’re left in a room, with no windows, and a locked door, leaving you with the mereideaof time, what happens?

Reality and fantasy mesh, memories and hopes intertwine. Thoughts become voices which turn into questions. Into doubts.

I’ve been trained for this. Put in a room with nothing but my mind to keep me company. It’s where I honed and shaped my rage into purpose. I developed a goal, a plan, and ran through countless scenarios that could hinder me from success.

Never did I account for a man. No, not any man. For Ezekiel.

He is the puzzle I have yet to crack. An entity I thought I had figured out from the very beginning.

See, the thing about being a predator means that you can sense others. And what’s even more important is knowing when they are stronger than you.

Kane is.

Because of that, my bullet was always meant to be his end–beforehe realized what he was capable of.

Yet somehow, the man has managed to make me feel in control of a situation in which I am a mere captive. His words don’t seem meaningless, but genuine. Still, I can’t do anything with his pretty words. They won’t change what’s happened, or how this will end.

Like I summoned him, whether with my thoughts or timed stomach growl, the handle turns and the heavy metal door swings open.

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