Page 4 of King of Ruin

The second is much more seasoned, also young, but the scars–both old and new–decorating his tan face show he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty. His blond strands are long, perfect for holding when I need to steady his face and pierce through his throat.

The last is the only one I have reservations about. He’s much older, and his unwavering hand hovering over his holstered gun could either be from nerves or preparedness, though I’m unsure which. He isn’t watching me, but instead, his eyes are trained on Phineas’ back. He’s not the strongest of the trio, that much I know, so I decide to kill him second.

“I’ll make it from this room with no problem, Phineas. That, you don’t have to worry about.”

This turns his amused smirk into a sneer, the face I’ve studied from afar making its grand appearance. I thought he’d be more intimidating than disgusting. “Tell me how you think you’ll manage such a feat, girl. I know they call you a ghost, a legend even. But looking at you now, I must say, I’m rather unimpressed.”

“As am I,” I counter, my gaze dragging down the lump of flesh in front of me.

Like all other Murphys, it looks as if he hasn’t picked up a weight in years, relying on his lackeys to do his heavy lifting. I can almost guarantee he’d be out of breath before he reached the door if he tried to run.

Phineas clears his throat but his arrogance doesn’t waver. “Tell me, Queen of Hearts, how do you plan to get through me and my men? Entertain me.”

Ignoring his latter comment, I tell him the truth, twisting the wood piece in my fingers as I let my eyes drift to each person I plan to kill. “Once I render you unconscious, I’ll use that man’s gun to kill the other two. Then I’ll stab him in the throat with this piece of wood I have in my hand. Once that’s done, I’ll close the door and have my way with–”

Heavy footsteps stop my words. The sound of thick boots hitting the concrete in a steady interval I know all too well.

The air leaves me the moment Kane walks in the room.

A lump forms in my throat immediately, forcing me to swallow my remaining words as I watch him stand next to his father. My lashes flutter, closing a few times as though he is merely a mirage from lack of nutrients. But when his dark gaze settles over me like a tidal wave, I’m jolted awake and forced to acknowledge his excruciatingly painful presence.

I feel my molars crack as I take in the man responsible for stealing the last piece of my light. It was dim and fleeting, but it was there, and now, a desire to have his head removed from his neck courses through me, retraining my focus. My heart hammers against my ribcage, the visceral need to actnow, makes my body tremble in anticipation.

It’s clear more than anything now thatthisis his authentic self, a don, more so than the man over his shoulder, and I was an imbecile for not seeing it sooner. The shadows that lingered over him have now overtaken him. He somehow stands taller than before, his shoulders square and strong under his tailored midnight suit. A subtle prickling shadow decorates his sharp jawline, and a fresh, bright, cut splits his right eyebrow in half.

While most would say he’s comparable to Hades, they underestimate the overwhelming power radiating through him. This man is Zeus. The all-consuming, selfish, angry, God. The strongest of them all.

And he knows it.

Kane’s eyes rake over my body before sliding to one side of my hip. As though he can see through me and spies the weapon in my hand, he shakes his head slightly in a warning.

A warning?

I fight the urge to laugh and instead feed on the anger vibrating through my core. If I focus on the hint of something else buried deep inside my chest, I’ll lose focus, and I refuse to be made a fool of twice in my life.

There were many exercises my uncle taught me while being restrained. First, free to my feet. They are more important to have loose, so if all else fails, I can at least escape. Then, naturally, my arms and hands. For this, I’m grateful my genetics include flexible joints because he always forced me to pull bound hands over my head rather than under my feet. He said it was a quicker method if I was seated. While true, every time I moved too quickly, my shoulder always popped out of socket. And right now, I won’t have the luxury of moving slowly.

I turn my attention to victim number one, the man in the middle. “Don’t throw caution to the wind, boys. Leave me with your boss, or your head is mine. You decide.”

Kane huffs, stepping to the side at the same time the men exchange a look and Phineas grins. But the moment is a moment wasted, and their fate has been decided.

I’m already up, and my stick is in the soldier’s throat.

Iknew I should have watched for the older guard. Turns out, he wasn’t nervous, but ready. His gun is drawn and aimed at my forehead. His chest is moving steadily, but quicker than before, his eyes unwavering as they take in his bleeding comrade.

Even with how quickly I moved, he still could’ve gotten a shot off, which only serves to irritate me as it must mean Phineas wants to keep me alive. Perhaps it’s also the reason Kane never killed me.

My back is open to the younger guard since my hands are still cuffed and currently around the dying man’s neck. As he fumbles to get his own weapon, I pull out the wood sticking in his friend’s jugular and swing around, pushing the body into the gun trained on me and use the young man as a shield. My right arm singes in pain, a tingle and numbness radiating down the limb. I didn’t completely rip the joint from its socket but it hurts like hell, and I can tell if I do too much, itwillpop out.

Massive tremors rack down the younger one’s body, distracting my mind from the discomfort and instead have me delightfully entertained. It’s a visual reminder that Murphy’s men are made of nothing more than the shit beneath my heels. With my eyes still on the others–who seem far too calm–my teeth find the guard’s earlobe. He jerks violently in my hold when I nip into the soft skin, but when the wood embeds into his neck, he stops, sobs falling from his blubbering lips.

“Such a waste of a pretty face,” I whisper in his ear, my gaze flashing to Kane’s. “I’d have liked to sit on it just once before I kill you.”

His whimpers grow, but they seem far away as I examine Kane. His demeanor hasn’t changed, his hands are shoved casually in his dress pant’s pocket, and his head is tilted to the side as though he’s bored. But the flash of fire that passes over his eyes when I lick the shell of the guard’s ear doesn’t go unnoticed.

Jealousy. Interesting, considering I was nothing more than a tool. It could be seconds or minutes that pass but neither of us blinks, too busy trying to read the other in what could be our last minutes breathing.

The real waste is him. What could have–

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