Page 3 of King of Ruin

A slight burn radiates behind my eyes as I reject the sliver of doubt still flickering in the back of my mind. The memory of his rough hands coasting over my body, controlling everything while allowing me to let go, plays on repeat.

He could have killed me a dozen times over, but he didn’t. And I can’t seem to curb the desire to know why.

No.It doesn’t matter why he chose to prolong my death sentence. What matters now is that my estate is nothing more than a pile of rubble, left unguarded to the filthy vermin, and I’m here, unable to protect my family.

I have no idea of their whereabouts or if they’re even alive. After Phineas knocked Kane unconscious, he didn’t waste any time on a monologue and merely stuck a needle in my neck, damning me to sleep while his goons did who knows what to my home.

When I came to, I found myself in what appears to be a cellar, not too unlike my own. Its floor and walls are comprised of nothing but concrete and rusted plumbing running along the ceiling. The one overhead light is turned off, leaving the glow from under the lone door as the only way for me to discern any of my surroundings.

Every sixty minutes or so, someone stands in front of it, blocking the fragment of light, but then they do nothing for a full minute before shuffling away. They’re checking to see if I’m awake, and in those sixty seconds, I feign steady breaths and the soft hums of someone still unconscious.

They say time is a thief. A villain. But my uncle taught me that it’s my best friend in situations such as these. It allows me the necessary duration to listen to my surroundings and take in any sounds that may give me insight as to where I am. It lets any lingering drugs wear out of my system and gives me time to construct an escape plan.

The only con is that with each passing second, my body is without food, without water, and left to rot under the weight of fear.

Only, that’s something I’ll never have to worry about. Fear left me the day my mother’s head rolled on the pristine, white sidewalk. It left when I watched the light leave my father’s eyes just before the machete pierced his chest. And the final bit of fear I had about my life after vengeance was completely disintegrated in the flames of Kane’s betrayal.

All that remains of me now is an animal. One made from blood, fangs, and hunger.

I don’t plan to die here, at least not without taking as many heads as I can, Kane’s included.

The thick clunk of a deadbolt unlocking resounds in the small, dark space. Light from the hall floods inside, forcing me to narrow my eyes to keep from being blinded.

I will my heart rate to remain steady as I take in Phineas filling the threshold. His dark suit is ill-fitted, the pant legs pooling at his ankles over buffed loafers. The button on his jacket is barely holding in his rotund belly, and the smug look on his weathered, scruffy face is equivalent to an arrogant villain’s before being overtaken due to his negligence.

My body reacts of its own accord, a fury working through my veins and burning my limbs with the need to move. To kill. My wrists twist behind me in the chains binding me to the wooden chair in the middle of the room.

Wooden. Idiots. I’m not sure what irks me more. The fact they call themselves an elite crime family while making mediocre mistakes, like giving me enough time to recover. Or the fact they allowed someone to tie me to a chair, which I broke the second I woke up.

Keeping my hands behind my back, I tighten my grasp on the broken, jagged end of a support bar as I straighten my spine. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Phineas?”

His thick brows draw together as he takes a wide step into the room. Three men with satcheled guns follow closely behind, their eyes round as they take me in.

One flips on the dim light but keeps behind Phineas as he nears me. He’s not within arms’ reach, but a quick leap will fix that.

My heart hums in my chest, an idea formulating as I examine him and the soldiers’ positions. I can have them all dead within six strikes, and use their weapons to shoot my way out. Then I’ll find the one with the voice I still hear in my dreams before they take me out. I’m owed at least that.

“I see your mind whirling, Onyx. But let me assure you. You won’t make it from this building alive.”

Building.

My eyes flash back to his. They’re dark, unlike his son, and they reek of unease. He knows I am nothing like my parents. I have nothing he can take, which means death is simply a means to an end for me. As long as I take him and the man,Sam, with me, I will gladly pay the price. And without any concern of my ultimate death, he won’t be able to keep me complacent. He has to know I’ll be more trouble than I’m worth.

Phineas clears his throat, the sound of phlegm thick in his esophagus. “It is lovely to finally make your acquaintance. You’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you.”

I drag my dry bottom lip through my teeth before smirking. “How many do you station here? More than eighteen?”

Phineas’ head twitches to the side, while the three men behind him exchange sideways glances.

I smile. “Yes, I’d say much less.”

“Why does that matter? You have three armed men and myself between you and the door. What gives you the impression you’d make it out of your seat, let alone this room?” His voice is much too high to be intimidating. For a second, I wonder where Kane got the huskiness in his.

Again, I’m thinking of the one who betrayed me to the very man I’ve been planning to kill.

My tangled insides pull tighter, and my muscles clench around the phantom pain.

I crack my neck to either side and take in each guard behind Murphy. The first one is young–no older than twenty. His face has yet to sprout hair and the way he keeps adjusting his weight on the balls of his feet tells me he’s rightfully scared. He’s smart.

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