Ruthless Kings of Obsession (Leighton Royals University #3)

17. The Price Of Obsession

The Price Of Obsession

~ G EMINI~

"Rise, my obsessed King," the words taste like honey and poison on my tongue as I extend my hand toward Domino's kneeling form.

"Wait."

The command cuts through the tension like a blade, making everyone freeze. I know that voice – would know it anywhere. The crowd parts like water as Mr. Prescott makes his way toward the stage, each step measured and deliberate. Unlike the others in their formal black and white, he wears a suit of deep burgundy that seems to absorb shadows. My birth father, the man who sold me to the Leightons, now commands the room's attention as if he never left.

How long has he been watching? Planning? Waiting for this exact moment?

His shoes make no sound on the marble steps as he ascends to the stage. The medicine Hannah gave me makes everything hyperfocused – I can see each silver thread in his perfectly styled hair, count every deliberate breath he takes. He moves like a predator, reminding me where I learned to hunt before the Leightons taught me to kill.

"What a fascinating display of devotion," he muses, voice carrying that familiar aristocratic lilt that always made simple words sound like prophecies. "Two broken pieces finding their jagged edges fit together perfectly." His eyes – the same haunting blue as mine – scan the crowd before returning to Domino's kneeling form. "Rather romantic, in a deliciously twisted way."

Something in his tone makes my skin prickle with warning. I've seen that look before, usually right before he orchestrated someone's complete destruction. But why now? Why here?

"But I wonder," he continues, moving closer with casual grace that doesn't quite hide his deadly intent, "if opportunity presented itself, would you protect him? Your obsessed King who swears such pretty devotion?"

A laugh bubbles up from my throat before I can stop it – wild and sharp and maybe a little unhinged. The voices in my head whisper conflicting advice, but for once I ignore them all. "Protect him?" The words drip with amused contempt. "If the opportunity came to destroy him completely, I wouldn't hesitate." My smile shows too many teeth. "After all, only I have earned the right to end what I've so carefully broken."

"Interesting perspective." Something dark flashes in his eyes – approval maybe, or anticipation. He reaches into his jacket with deliberate slowness, drawing out a matte black handgun that looks too comfortable in his grip. "Care to prove it?"

The crowd's collective gasp seems to suck all the oxygen from the room. Even Saint Joaquin looks momentarily surprised, though his expression quickly shifts to calculating interest.

"Father," the word feels strange on my tongue after so many years, "are you suggesting I shoot my newly sworn King? Right here in front of everyone?" Another laugh escapes me, this one edged with genuine amusement. "How delightfully dramatic of you."

"Why not?" He holds the gun out like an offering. "Unless you're all talk and no action. Unless this whole display of power is just another pretty mask you've learned to wear."

Just like you taught me , I think but don't say. All those lessons about appearances and deception before you sold me to the Leightons.

My hand reaches for the gun almost of its own accord. The weight feels familiar, comforting even. How many times had Zander guided these same fingers around similar weapons, teaching me to defend myself?

Zander.

The name sends a spike of pain through my chest so sharp I almost gasp. My father must see something change in my expression because his next words are pitched for my ears alone.

"Speaking of pretty masks," he murmurs, leaning close under pretense of adjusting my grip on the gun, "I heard about Benedict. Quite tragic, really. Taking two bullets for a woman who might let his killer live."

Ice floods my veins, making the world sharp enough to cut. "What did you say?"

"Oh?" His smile holds no warmth. "Hasn't anyone told you? Your precious King bled out in that alley. Alone. In the rain." Each word falls like a hammer blow. "While his killer walked away without a scratch."

The gun feels heavier now, weighted with new purpose. My eyes find Domino still kneeling on the marble floor, water dripping steadily from his ruined clothes. He meets my gaze without flinching, and I see understanding dawn in his expression.

"Eva," Ares' warning voice carries from behind me, but I barely hear it. All I can focus on is Domino's face – the face of the man who took everything from me.

He killed him. He killed my King. My protector. My perfect match in every broken way.

"See the truth in her eyes, boy," my father's voice carries subtle satisfaction. "See what real obsession looks like. Not your childish fixation with breaking her, but her absolute conviction in destroying you."

Domino doesn't look away as I raise the gun with steady hands, aiming directly at his head. The crowd seems to hold its collective breath, unable to believe this is really happening.

"Evangeline, don't—" Marcus this time, but his voice sounds distant, unimportant.

All I can see is Zander bleeding out in that alley. Zander who loved me exactly as I was – broken pieces and all. Zander who made me feel safe for the first time since childhood. Zander who died protecting me from the man now kneeling at my feet.

"I can see it now," Domino says softly, eyes never leaving mine. "Why you'll be Queen when this is over. You're truly as ruthless as they say."

My sweet, psychotic King died alone in the rain while I played games in a warehouse.

"Do it," Domino continues, a strange smile playing at his lips. "It has to be you. Always had to be you."

The voices in my head scream for blood, for vengeance, for completion of what we started so long ago. But beneath their chaos, I hear Zander's voice – that low, dangerous chuckle he'd give right before suggesting something wonderfully wicked.

"Make them suffer, Sweet Dynamite. Death is too easy."

My finger tightens on the trigger, and I watch Domino's eyes close in acceptance. He really believes I'm going to do it – going to end our twisted story right here in front of everyone who matters in our world.

This is what you wanted , the thought comes with crystal clarity. To break him so completely that he'd welcome death from your hands.

"Any last words?" I ask, voice steady despite the storm raging inside me.

His eyes open, meeting mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. "I loved you," he says simply. "In my own broken way. Even when I was hurting you. Maybe especially then."

The admission hits harder than any physical blow. For a moment, I'm that scared little girl again, wondering why my stepbrother's attention always came with pain. Why his love felt like drowning.

But I'm not that girl anymore.

The gun doesn't waver as I take careful aim. The crowd's tension is almost palpable – hundreds of breaths held, hearts seemingly paused mid-beat. Even Saint Joaquin leans forward slightly, genuine interest showing through his usual mask of casual indifference.

"I know," I say finally, letting him see the truth in my eyes. "That's what makes this perfect."

The gunshot rings out like thunder in the enclosed space. Several people scream. Others dive for cover, expensive jewelry clattering against marble floors. Through it all, Domino doesn't move – doesn't even flinch.

Slowly, realization dawns as he processes the fact that he's still breathing. That the bullet embedded itself in the floor mere inches from his knee instead of his skull.

"Death would be too kind," I say into the shocked silence, lowering the gun with deliberate grace. "Too quick. Too clean." My smile holds all the warmth of a winter storm. "No, my obsessed King. You're going to live. You're going to serve. You're going to watch as I become everything you feared I could be."

Understanding blooms in his eyes – beautiful and terrible. He sees it now – the true depth of my revenge. Not just destruction, but complete submission. Not death, but devotion.

"After all," I continue, letting my voice carry to every corner of the ballroom, "isn't that what obsession is? Wanting something so badly you'd die for it?" My laugh holds no humor. "Or in your case, live for it?"

My father's approving chuckle breaks the tension. "Well played, daughter," he says, real pride coloring his tone. "You truly are your mother's child."

"No," I correct him, eyes still locked with Domino's. "I'm something entirely new. Something you all helped create." The gun feels warm in my hand as I pass it back to him. "A Queen who brings not just havoc, but obsession. Who turns destruction into devotion."

"Rise," I command Domino again, and this time no one dares interrupt. He stands slowly, water still dripping from his clothes, eyes never leaving mine. "Your Queen has spared you. Your debt is now eternal."

The crowd watches in stunned silence as he takes the first step toward the stage. Toward his place among my Kings. Toward whatever fate I decide he deserves.

Watch over me, my love , I think, feeling Zander's presence like a phantom touch. Watch how your Queen makes them all kneel.

Behind me, I sense my other Kings adjusting their positions – Ares in his blood-red suit, Marcus with his calculated stillness, Ren with his dangerous grace. All of them accepting this new dynamic, this evolution of our court.

Because that's what this is – not just revenge or power or even obsession. It's transformation. Breaking something completely so it can be rebuilt into something darker, more dangerous.

More perfect.

"These are my official Ruthless Kings," I declare, gesturing to the men who stand behind me like shadows given form. "Ares Albrecht, Marcus Williamson Wright, Ren Augustus Hudson, and Domino Leighton." Each name carries its own weight, its own promise of power. "Along with my other two Kings – Matteo Leighton and Zander Benedict – who have already proven their loyalty beyond any doubt."

The crystal chandeliers cast dancing lights across the marble floor, making everything seem slightly surreal. Or maybe that's just Hannah's medicine making the world sharper, more focused than it should be.

"They have followed every rule, met every expectation, and survived every test thrown their way." My voice carries clear authority now – no longer the scared girl hiding behind pigtails and glasses. "So tell me, gentlemen," I address Saint Joaquin, Mr. Leighton, and my father directly, "is there anything else you need from us before we end this rather exhausting form of entertainment?"

A woman in the crowd – dripping in diamonds that probably cost more than most people's houses – steps forward with obvious reluctance. "Actually," her voice wavers slightly when my gaze finds her, "you're supposed to be represented this time."

Murmurs of agreement ripple through the crowd, growing stronger as others remember this apparently crucial detail.

"She's right?—"

"The third Ascension requires?—"

"It's tradition?—"

I watch with carefully hidden amusement as the three men on stage exchange looks, realizing they've overlooked something in their elaborate game. Even Saint Joaquin seems momentarily thrown off balance.

"Care to elaborate?" I ask, though the growing smile on my face suggests I already know exactly what they've forgotten.

Saint Joaquin recovers first, his composure sliding back into place like a well-worn mask. "After two Ascensions," he explains smoothly, "tradition requires blessing from someone outside our immediate circle. A code that should have been acquired during your... preparation for this moment."

My Kings shift slightly behind me, each processing this new information. I can practically hear their minds racing, trying to figure out what code we could have missed along the way.

Marcus frowns, no doubt running through every interaction we've had in the past months. Ares maintains his perfect model's pose, but I catch the slight tension in his jaw. Ren's playboy smile slips just a fraction, while Domino – still dripping water onto the marble floor – looks like he's questioning every decision that led him to this moment.

But I just smile, already turning away from the stage with deliberate grace. My Kings move instantly to follow, their synchronization making several people gasp.

"Where are you going?" The same diamond-draped woman demands, her voice climbing an octave in shock. "You can't just?—"

I pause, looking back over my shoulder with a smile that makes her take an involuntary step backward. My gaze travels from her to the three men still standing on stage – these supposed masters of our fate who thought they controlled every piece on the board.

"We do have representation," I say softly, though my voice carries in the sudden silence. "And you can happily let him know of our victory as the official Ruthless Kings of Obsession with their loyal, undefeated, badass of a Ruthless Queen of Obsession."

Understanding dawns in Saint Joaquin's eyes first, followed quickly by something that might be genuine respect. My father's laugh holds real appreciation, while Mr. Leighton's slight smile speaks volumes.

I turn away again, but make sure my final words ring clear through the stunned ballroom:

"The Blind One sends his regards and our blessings."

The chaos that erupts behind us is absolutely beautiful.

After all, what's a Queen without her dramatic exit?