Ruthless Kings of Obsession (Leighton Royals University #3)

5. The Predators Game

The Predator's Game

~ G EMINI~

The warehouse becomes my playground, a maze of shadows and steel where I get to be the monster lurking in the dark. The sound of Domino's retreating footsteps echoes through the vast space, mixing with the hurried movements of his remaining guards. Their fear is palpable, a delicious scent that makes my blood sing with anticipation.

"Hunt them. Hunt them all."

The voices are clearer now, a symphony of darkness that guides my every move. My fingers trace the outline of the canister strapped to my thigh, hidden beneath the crystallized jersey that once represented unity but now marks me as something else entirely.

A Queen who brings not just havoc, but strategic chaos.

The gasoline slips from the carefully modified release valve, leaving a trail behind me like a serpent's path. Each drop is measured, calculated – just like every other aspect of this elaborate dance I've orchestrated.

"Find her!" Domino's voice carries from somewhere ahead, tinged with desperation. "Don't let her near any exits!"

*Oh, sweet brother. You still think you're in control.*

A guard appears from behind a stack of crates, his gun raised but his hands trembling. Amateur. I move before he can even register my presence, Knifey finding a home between his ribs. He goes down with barely a whimper, adding to the growing collection of bodies I've left in my wake.

"She's over here!" Another guard calls out, and I can't help but smile.

*Let's play.*

I dart between the shadows, my movements fluid and precise. The gasoline continues to drip, creating patterns across the concrete floor that only I can see – a web of destruction waiting to be ignited.

Two more guards round the corner, and I'm already moving. The first one's neck snaps under my hands with practiced ease. The second manages to fire a shot that grazes my arm, but the pain only feeds the fury coursing through my veins. I drive my knee into his throat, feeling cartilage crush beneath the impact.

"You're only making this worse for yourself!" Domino's voice echoes again, closer now. "Just give up, Iva!"

I laugh, the sound bouncing off metal walls like broken glass. "Giving up was never my strong suit, big brother. You made sure of that!"

***"Make him suffer. Make him burn."***

The voices grow more insistent, and I welcome their darkness. They've been my constant companions through years of torment, and now they guide me toward my vengeance.

I find another guard trying to flank me. This one's different – better trained, more composed. He manages to land a solid hit that sends me stumbling backward, but I recover quickly. We trade blows in a deadly dance, each strike precise and calculated.

"You're good," he grunts, blocking one of my kicks.

I smile, tasting blood on my lips. "I had excellent teachers."

His eyes widen as I switch styles mid-fight, moving from formal martial arts to the street fighting Zander taught me. The change catches him off guard, and Knifey finds his jugular with practiced precision. As he falls, I notice his tactical vest and quickly strip it off him.

*Perfect.*

More shouts echo through the warehouse as I continue my hunt, leaving chaos and gasoline in my wake. The vest provides additional protection, but more importantly, it carries extra ammunition and a few flash grenades that might come in handy.

I pause at a junction of corridors, listening intently. Footsteps approach from multiple directions – three, maybe four guards. They're trying to box me in, but they don't realize they're just adding more fuel to my inferno.

"Come on, Iva!" Domino calls out again, his voice strained. "Think about what you're doing! You've already ruined my life – isn't that enough?"

"Enough?" I snarl back, my voice carrying through the darkness. "Was it enough when you held my head underwater until I passed out? Was it enough when you pushed me down the stairs and told everyone it was an accident? Was it enough when you made me watch as you tortured my only friend?"

The memories flood back, sharp and bitter like poison. Each incident of cruelty, each calculated torment, each moment he stole another piece of my innocence. But he didn't just break me – he forged me into something stronger, deadlier.

*And now it's time to show him his greatest mistake.*

The guards reach the junction just as I throw one of the flash grenades. The explosion of light and sound gives me the advantage I need. I move through them like a demon, Knifey singing its deadly song. Blood sprays across my face, but I barely notice. The voices in my head are screaming for more, and I'm happy to oblige.

"Jesus Christ," I hear one of them gasp before I silence him permanently. "She's not human..."

*No. I'm something much worse.*

I follow the sound of Domino's increasingly panicked movements, the gasoline trail growing thicker as I close in on my prey. He's running out of places to hide, and he knows it. The warehouse may be vast, but I've spent months studying its layout, preparing for this very moment.

Finally, I corner him in the main storage area – a vast space filled with empty shelves and abandoned machinery. He's backed against a wall, blood dripping from various cuts and bruises I've already inflicted. His precious hockey jersey is torn and stained, a fitting metaphor for his shattered life.

"Nowhere left to run," I say softly, emerging from the shadows. "How does it feel, being the prey for once?"

He looks around wildly, probably searching for more of his guards. "They're all dead, aren't they?"

"Most of them," I shrug, twirling Knifey between my fingers. "A few might survive if they get medical attention soon enough. But they're not your concern right now."

"This is insane," he pants, still trying to maintain some semblance of control. "You can't just—wait." His eyes narrow as he finally takes in our surroundings. "How did you know about this place? This warehouse has been abandoned for years."

I smile, enjoying the moment of revelation. "Has it? Are you sure about that, dear brother?"

Understanding begins to dawn in his eyes. "No... This is one of Father's properties. Flex told me—" He stops, face paling. "Flex."

"Smart boy," I purr, continuing to circle him. "Finally putting the pieces together?"

"You killed him," Domino accuses, but there's uncertainty in his voice now. "I watched him burn alive on that video feed!"

My laugh echoes through the warehouse, high and cold. "Did you? Did you really see him burn, or did you see what I wanted everyone to see?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Poor, sweet Flex," I sigh dramatically. "Always so desperate to be accepted, to be seen as more than just the nerdy kid you all tormented. Did you know he had a whole folder of pictures saved on his phone? Before and after photos of plastic surgery procedures he dreamed of getting?"

Domino's eyes widen. "You're lying."

"Am I? Right now, he's probably lounging on a beach in Turkey, recovery from his third procedure. New nose, new chin, new life – all courtesy of his favorite 'victim.' Amazing what a little kindness and a lot of money can buy."

"But... the video..."

"Special effects have come a long way," I smirk. "Amazing what you can do with the right connections and enough motivation. Flex was more than happy to help stage his own death once I showed him a way out of the hell you'd created for him."

"You manipulative bitch," he breathes, but there's a hint of admiration mixed with the anger now. "You played us all."

"I learned from the best," I say sweetly, tapping Knifey against my thigh. "You taught me so well, big brother. All those lessons about pain and power and control... I was paying attention."

The sound of sirens grows louder outside, but neither of us moves. We're locked in this moment, predator and prey, sister and brother, two sides of the same twisted coin.

"They'll be here soon," he says, glancing toward the exits.

I shake my head slowly. "No one's coming to save you, Domino. This is my warehouse, remember? Every exit is sealed. Every window is barred. And if you haven't noticed..." I gesture to the trail of gasoline that surrounds us both, "we're standing in the center of a very elaborate trap."

His eyes follow the liquid trails that crisscross the floor, finally understanding dawning on his face. "You're going to burn it down," he whispers. "With us inside."

"Maybe," I shrug, pulling out a lighter. "Or maybe I'll let you live to suffer through what comes next. Haven't decided yet." I flip the lighter open, watching how the small flame makes his eyes dilate with fear. "What do you think, brother dear? Have you suffered enough yet?"

The sirens are getting closer, but we both know they won't arrive in time to stop whatever happens next. This is our moment – the culmination of years of abuse and revenge and obsession.

"What happens now?" he asks, echoing his question from our earlier fight.

I smile, and it's not the smile of the girl he used to torment. It's the smile of a queen who's finally claimed her crown, built from blood and vengeance and the ashes of innocence lost.

"Now?" I flick the lighter shut, keeping him in suspense. "Now we find out if you're really sorry for what you did to Zander."

The name makes him flinch, guilt flashing across his face. Good. He should feel guilty. He should feel everything.

"And if I'm not?" he challenges, though his voice wavers.

My smile widens as I hear familiar footsteps approaching from behind – footsteps I've been waiting for all night.

"Then big brother, you're about to learn what true suffering means."