Ruthless Kings of Obsession (Leighton Royals University #3)

19. Confessions Of A Fallen King

Confessions Of A Fallen King

***~ D OMINO~***

A subtle change in breathing pattern pulls me from restless sleep. My neck aches from the awkward position in this stupidly expensive armchair, but that discomfort pales against the bone-deep exhaustion plaguing every inch of my body. I force my eyes open, already knowing what I'll find.

Matteo stares back at me with those unnervingly perceptive eyes, his expression unreadable despite the high-grade painkillers I know must be coursing through his system. Even injured, he carries that quiet authority that's always made me slightly jealous – the kind of power that doesn't need to announce itself.

"Fuck," I grunt, shifting to find a less painful position. "I was supposed to be the one watching you wake up, not the other way around." The words come out rougher than intended, my split lip throbbing with each syllable.

Silence fills the luxurious recovery room, broken only by the soft beeping of medical equipment and the subtle hum of what's probably an extremely expensive air purification system. Everything in this place screams money and discretion – exactly what you'd expect from a Wright family medical facility.

"Did you know?" I finally ask, the question that's been burning since Marcus dropped his little revelation about our shared condition. "About the family trait? The insanity that apparently runs in our father's bloodline?"

Matteo doesn't respond immediately. I watch him process the question, his eyes taking on that calculating look that reminds me too much of Eva. Finally, he says simply: "Yes."

"Why didn't you say something earlier?" The words taste bitter, like the copper tang of blood still lingering in my mouth.

"Would you have listened?" He doesn't say it unkindly, just matter-of-fact. "If I'd tried to tell you that your episodes, your blackouts, your uncontrollable rages – they weren't just anger management issues but something deeper?"

I laugh, though it comes out more like a broken sound that might be a sob. "No," I admit, hating the truth in it. "No, I wouldn't have fucking listened."

More silence stretches between us, heavy with years of rivalry and missed opportunities. I stare at my hands, remembering how steady they felt holding the gun, how natural it seemed in that moment to pull the trigger. How some other version of me watched through my own eyes as I shot a man I once called brother.

"I wish I wasn't so fucked up in the head," I mutter, the confession slipping out before I can stop it. "Maybe I would have actually liked you."

Something that might be surprise flickers across Matteo's face. "If you weren't so obsessed with being on top," he replies after a moment, "maybe we could have had a decent brotherhood." His voice carries no judgment, just quiet observation. "But why regret it now? You've come too far to start questioning your choices."

I lean back in the chair, letting my eyes close as exhaustion pulls at every cell in my body. The silence lingers, almost comfortable in its weight. When I hear Matteo's breathing even out slightly, I find myself speaking to what I assume is his sleeping form.

"It wasn't real until I pulled the trigger," I say softly, the words falling like stones into still water. "All the games, the power plays, the casual cruelty – it felt like roles we were playing. Like someday we'd all look back and laugh about how seriously we took everything."

My throat tightens as memories surface: Zander teaching me to fight properly instead of just brawling, staying up late helping me study when everyone else had given up, always having my back even when I probably didn't deserve it.

"But watching him fall... seeing his blood mix with the rain..." I swallow hard. "Suddenly everything felt too real. Too permanent. Like waking up from a dream to find you've actually been sleepwalking through a nightmare."

The monitors beep steadily, marking time as I struggle to articulate thoughts I've never dared voice before. "That's how life has been, you know? Following instincts I didn't understand. Listening to this constant need for power, for control, for... something I couldn't name. Always thinking if I just push forward hard enough, victory would be inevitable."

A bitter laugh escapes me. "I thought I was so close to the finish line. Become a King. Get a Queen. Finally prove to everyone – to Father, to myself – that I deserve to exist in this world we've built." My hands shake slightly as I run them through my hair. "And now look at me. Reputation destroyed. Name tarnished beyond repair. The men I called friends will never trust me again, and the girl..."

I trail off, emotion threatening to choke me. "The girl I've dreamed would love me someday is the one I systematically broke. The one I tormented and tainted and tried to ruin, only to find out she's stronger and smarter than I could ever hope to be."

The silence feels heavier now, pressing against my skin like a physical weight. "I could have changed," I whisper, the words tasting like ash. "Could have made different choices, been someone worth believing in. Instead, I'm just... ruined. Completely fucking ruined in a society that will never accept me again."

I take a deep, shuddering breath, letting it out slowly. "The irony is, I finally understand what Father meant about legacy. About carrying the family name. I just never thought I'd be the one to destroy it."

Minutes pass as I stare at nothing, lost in thoughts of what could have been. Finally, I voice the truth that's been growing since I watched Eva spare my life in front of everyone who matters:

"I can no longer fix what's written," I murmur, resignation settling in my bones, "so I guess I just have to wait until it's my turn to burn."