Page 59 of Run of Ruin

I leaned forward slightly, threading just enough ambition into my voice to sound like one of them. The words I was saying were things I may have said in earnest a few weeks ago, but now they felt false. “This year… I saw potential. An opportunity to prolong my time in the Run and improve my standing. Their success is my success, after all.”

It felt strange, and colder than I liked, to talk about Brexlyn and Ezra like that. Stripping them down to assets and survival percentages when all I wanted was to keep them breathing.

I wondered if she could see through it. If she could feel the falsehood clinging to my words like static.

But if she did, she gave no sign. The Archon simply leaned back in her chair, that unreadable smile still playing at the corners of her lips, and studied me like a piece on a game board.

“I heard there was an altercation between the Canyon elected and the Darkbranch chosen,” Archon Veritas said, her voice as smooth and sharp as glass. It wasn’t a question. She already knew the truth. There was no use pretending otherwise.

I should’ve realized Char would scrub the footage beforepassing it off to me. I was lucky he’d let me handle the edit at all. Foolish to hope he wouldn’t keep eyes on it.

“Yes,” I admitted quietly.

Veritas didn’t react, didn’t blink. “Why wasn’t it included?”

I took a slow breath, tried to shrug like it didn’t matter, like my pulse wasn’t thundering in my ears. “Because the Canyon fool forgave him before the fight even got good,” I said, keeping my tone casual, irreverent. “I had a cut with the altercation in, but it was… dull. Barely a tackle, no blood, no real fists thrown. Frankly, it was boring.”

“Boring,” she echoed.

“Yes, Archon,” I nodded. “The real story wasn’t the scuffle, it was what came after. The shared interest in protecting the girl. For some reason those three put aside their goals and focused on her. So, I thought the edit should mirror the same. And based on the viewership metrics, the commentary threads, and the rising favor scores… I believe it was the right call.”

I didn’t dare fidget, though my heart felt like it might punch clean through my ribs. I prayed she couldn’t hear it from where she sat. Or see the panic clawing at the edge of my carefully practiced expression.

Veritas hummed, leaning back slightly, one manicured finger tracing a slow circle against the table’s polished surface. “Yes… I’ve seen the data. It appears this…Wildguard has garnered quite the following.”

I inclined my head. “They have.”

It was impossible not to notice. The public was ravenous for them. The bold, reckless girl fighting for a brother no one but her could save, and the three dangerous and powerful competitors who kept risking themselves to keep her safe. The footage of Briar tending to her wounds had gone viral. Thorneprotecting her from the bobcat was winning him some serious points in sympathy threads. Even Ezra, green-eyed and sharp-tongued, had charmed the viewers when he whispered reassurances to her and nearly cried with relief at finding her after days of non-stop searching.

I knew I was supposed to be jealous of it. Of the way Thorne’s body pressed against hers as they hid behind cover. Of Ezra’s mouth brushing the vulnerable skin at her throat when they reunited. Of Briar, her hand gently pressing against her injured face, fingers ghosting along the curve of her cheek, pulling soft, breathy sounds from her lips.

But I wasn’t.

I wasn’t jealous at all.

If anything, I envied that I wasn’t also there. I found myself wishing I could have been there in the flesh and blood reality of it, rather than trapped behind a screen, scrubbing through hours of footage. Watching moments I’d never get to feel, never get to be part of.

I’d catch myself leaning closer to the monitors when her laugh cracked through the comms, when she smiled at something one of them muttered, when she let herself soften for half a second, and I’d realize how pathetic it was to feel so desperate for a girl who already had three other people pining after her.

But I couldn’t look away.

“Our little lottery pick has certainly made quite the impact,” Archon Veritas murmured, her voice silk over steel. She folded her hands beneath her chin and leaned forward, those sharp, predator’s eyes pinning me in place. “We haven’t had a fan favorite stand out this early in the broadcast in quite some time.”

I swallowed hard, forcing a polite smile. “Thank you,Archon,” I replied, though I wasn’t entirely sure it was meant as a compliment.

A long, loaded silence stretched between us. Veritas let it hang there because she wanted me to feel the weight of her gaze, the careful calculation behind those pale, gleaming eyes.

Then she spoke, her tone light but razor-sharp. “You understand, of course, that your job isn’t simply to tell the best story” She let the words sink in like a knife twisting slowly. “It’s to tell the right story.”

I felt a cold ripple down my spine. I nodded once, careful. “Of course, Archon.”

“The people need heroes and villains, Mr. Stark,” Archon Veritas continued. “They need cautionary tales, and they need shining examples. We give them both. We always have. The narrative shapes loyalty. It shapes compliance.”

She let the pause stretch, her eyes locked on mine, cold and deliberate.

“And most importantly,” she added softly, “it shapes hope, a dangerous, volatile thing when placed in the wrong hands… or stoked too high.”

Her meaning was clear, but she chose to spell it out anyway.

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