Ruthless Kings of Obsession (Leighton Royals University #3)

28. The Queens Return

The Queen's Return

~ G EMINI~

"They were quite amusing when they finally realized," Hannah muses as she helps me adjust the black silk undershirt of my Leighton University uniform. Her nimble fingers work with practiced efficiency, smoothing invisible wrinkles. "Particularly Mr. Leighton's expression when he discovered I've been taking orders from you this entire time."

A smile tugs at my lips as I study my reflection in the full-length mirror. The uniform is a masterpiece of design – gold, orange, and red accents woven through black fabric like captured flames. The Leighton University crescent embroidered on the blazer catches morning light, making the threads shimmer with subtle menace.

"Matteo wasn't even mad," I say softly, remembering that particular revelation. The memory unfolds like a flower opening its petals:

Two nights ago, tangled in silk sheets at the private medical facility where we'd been recovering. Matteo's arm still in a sling, though he insists it'll be healed before classes start – "Can't have anyone thinking it's a weakness," he'd growled. The moonlight painted everything in silver and shadows, making his eyes look almost black as he studied me.

"So," he'd said casually, fingers tracing patterns on my bare shoulder, "when exactly did you and Hannah start your little arrangement?"

I'd frozen for a moment, wondering how he'd figured it out. But there was no anger in his voice, just genuine curiosity tinged with something like admiration.

"The day you introduced us," I admitted, watching his reaction carefully. "We agreed it would be better if no one knew. Gave us more... flexibility in certain situations."

His laugh had rumbled through his chest, the sound rich with appreciation. "Cunning little thing, aren't you? Getting my most trusted associate on your side without anyone noticing."

"Did you expect anything less from your Ruthless Queen?" I'd challenged, tilting my face up to meet his gaze.

"No," he'd murmured, closing the distance between us. "No, my Sweet Precious Gem, I expected exactly this level of brilliant deception." His kiss had tasted like approval and dark promises. "It's one of the many reasons I love you."

The memory fades as Hannah's touch brings me back to the present. She's adjusting the kilt skirt now – black with subtle red and gold plaid, falling scandalously high on my thighs. I frown slightly, noticing how the fabric sits differently than it used to.

"I've lost too much weight," I observe, running my hands over the pronounced muscles of my legs. Two weeks of recovery, of proper meals and rest, haven't been enough to restore what stress and trauma stripped away. "The muscle definition isn't what it was."

Hannah's reflection shows a carefully neutral expression. "Your measurements indicate a twelve percent decrease in muscle mass since the incident," she confirms. "Though you've regained approximately four percent in the past two weeks."

The 'incident' – such a clinical term for the night that nearly destroyed everything. For watching Zander bleed out in an alley, for thinking I'd lost him forever, for the warehouse confrontation that changed all our lives. Even now, the memory makes something dark stir in my chest.

"Mr. Benedict will be pleased to see you in the uniform again," Hannah notes, deliberately shifting my focus. "He was quite... vocal about missing certain aspects of your academic attire during his recovery."

A different kind of heat floods my cheeks at that reminder. Zander's appreciation for the Leighton uniform has always bordered on obsessive, especially the way the skirt rides up when I?—

"Miss Prescott?" Hannah's voice carries just a hint of amusement. "Your thoughts seem to have wandered."

"Just considering logistics," I lie smoothly, though we both know better. "Making sure everything's in place for today."

She hums noncommittally, making final adjustments to the blazer's fit. The embroidered crescent sits perfectly centered, a symbol of power that carries new weight now. Now that we're no longer just the Ruthless Kings of Havoc, but something darker, more dangerous.

The Kings of Obsession.

The title still feels strange on my tongue, though it fits like a perfectly tailored glove. Because that's what we are now – six broken men united in their obsession with their Queen. Each carrying their own darkness, their own demons, their own desperate need to possess and protect.

And me? I'm their Ruthless Queen, finally worthy of the crown they've placed so carefully on my head. No longer the scared girl hiding behind pigtails and glasses, but something altogether more lethal.

The uniform is just another piece of the mask – the perfect student, the devoted wife, the gracious Queen. But underneath, beneath the silk and embroidery and careful facades, something darker pulses with every heartbeat.

Vengeance , it whispers. Patience. Wait.

Because that's what Queens do, isn't it? They wait for the perfect moment to strike, to turn careful planning into devastating reality. They move their pieces with precision, with purpose, with absolute certainty that every step leads to victory.

Even if that victory tastes like ash and blood.

"You're doing it again," Hannah observes quietly, stepping back to survey her work. "Getting lost in thoughts of revenge."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Only to those who know what to look for." She meets my eyes in the mirror. "Your Kings will be waiting downstairs. Shall I tell them you're ready?"

I study my reflection one final time – the uniform sitting perfectly despite my changed physique, the silver hair falling in careful waves, the look in my eyes that speaks of secrets and shadows and carefully planned destruction.

"Two dress sizes," I murmur, running my hands over the blazer that Hannah had to take in significantly. The guys had been furious when they realized just how much weight I'd lost. Even Marcus, usually so clinical about everything, had shown genuine concern.

"This isn't sustainable," he'd said during one of my check-ups, his doctor's mask slipping to reveal real worry. "Your body can't keep burning through resources like this."

Zander had been more direct, pulling me into his lap despite his injuries. "I can feel your ribs, Sweet Dynamite," he'd growled against my neck. "This stops now."

Even Ares, who lived in a world of high fashion where thinness was celebrated, had looked troubled. "Models maintain their weight through careful diet and exercise," he'd explained, his perfect features arranged in disapproval. "This is just destruction."

Matteo hadn't said anything at all – he'd just ordered the kitchen staff to prepare six small meals a day, each perfectly balanced for maximum nutrition. The silent command in his eyes had been clear: Eat, or there would be consequences.

"I promised them I'd get back on routine after this week," I tell Hannah, though we both know the upcoming term at Leighton won't make that easy. "The training schedule starts again on Monday. No more excuses."

Because Leighton University isn't going to play nice anymore , I think but don't say. Not after everything that's happened. Not with six Kings and their obsessed Queen taking center stage in this deadly theater.

My hair catches the morning light as I turn, the silver strands falling in waves past my shoulder blades. It's grown even longer during our recovery period, now reaching my lower back like a cascade of moonlight. The length makes me look softer somehow, more feminine – a dangerous deception that I plan to use to full advantage.

"Hannah," I say quietly, watching her reflection in the mirror. "I need one more thing from you."

She pauses in her adjustments, meeting my eyes with that perfect blend of efficiency and deadly grace that makes her so valuable. "Of course, Miss Prescott."

"I need you to get me everything you can find on The Blind One." The name falls between us like a blade, sharp and certain. "Every whisper, every rumor, every scrap of information about the university that burned. I want to know exactly who we're dealing with."

Hannah's expression doesn't change, but something shifts in her posture – becoming more predatory, more focused. "That could be... dangerous information to pursue."

"More dangerous than what we've already survived?"

Her smile is slight but genuine. "Fair point. I'll begin immediately." She moves toward the door, then pauses. "Your Kings are still waiting downstairs. Should I tell them you'll be down soon?"

I study my reflection one final time – the too-thin frame wrapped in expensive fabric, the silver hair falling like a war banner, the look in my eyes that promises violence dressed as grace.

"Tell them their Queen is ready to play her part," I say softly. "And Hannah?" I catch her gaze in the mirror. "Make sure Domino's treatment facility understands exactly what happens if they fail to keep him in line."

"Already handled," she assures me, her smile turning sharp. "The staff there are... highly motivated to ensure his cooperation."

I nod, satisfied. Everything is falling into place – the Kings, the university, the carefully orchestrated dance of power and obsession we're about to begin.

Let them think I'm fragile , I think, watching Hannah slip silently from the room. Let them see the weight loss, the soft hair, the delicate features.

They'll learn soon enough that sometimes the most dangerous predators are the ones that look like prey.

After all, isn't that what Queens do best? Hide razor blades behind sweet smiles, conceal deadly purpose behind graceful movements, wrap vengeance in velvet and silk until it's too late for anyone to escape?

I smooth down the too-short skirt one final time, letting my fingers brush against where Knifey rests against my thigh.

Some things never change, even if everything else has.

An idea flickers in my mind, and suddenly, I’m smiling far too wide at my own reflection, staring into her eyes like a manic ready to betray her own.

Why don’t we start being the Ruthless Queen of Obsession the right way?

Give the world something to talk about.