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“Just admit you’re jealous of how good I look with red eyes.”
“Jealous of what? I don’t have any trouble getting laid, Zander.”
“That’s because you don’t say shit. You stand there like a statue, and what do these hoes do?” he argues and flicks his long hair, attempting to look like he’s in a shampoo commercial. “O.M.G. Look! It’s ARES! He’s so hot! Do you think he has a girlfriend? What’s his horoscope? I’d drop to my knees any day of the week to have his 9.6-inch cock in my pus?—”
Ares is presenting him with a single black capsule.
“Stop measuring my cock when I sleep,” he drills him, to which he smirks defiantly back.
“If I don’t do it, who’s going to hype you up for having a massive cock?” He points to me. “Not Domino. He’s a selfish bastard.”
“Take your fucking looney medication, Zander.”
Or he acts like a rambling douche.
“You should get laid,” he tosses back and flicks his hand at the dead woman on the ground with obvious dismay. “Good tight pussy. Sexy is a bonus at this point.”
“Don’t forget they can’t be a blonde or brunette,” Ares reminds while Zander takes the capsules and dry swallows it with ease. “You don’t like black-haired chicks, either.”
When I don’t answer, Zander chuckles.
“Just say you’re gay, Dom. I’d still be your best friend.”
“Fuck you,” I grunt.
“I’d fuck me, too. I’m a gift carved by God himself,” Zander praises.
“Conceited son of a?—”
“Shall we clean shit up?” Ares offers. “If we’ve been summoned, that means we’re champions, doesn’t it?”
The glimmer in Zander’s eyes mimics mine as I allow myself to smile sinisterly.
Ares isn’t one to smile, but seeing a mere flicker of amusement in his eyes proves we’re about to get the best fucking news of the year.
No, fucking century.
We’ve been working toward this since we could fucking crawl. Endless sacrifices and facing various tribulations.
Now, we were going to reap what was sown into our destinies.
Especially mine.
“Don’t need to waste time here,” Zander assures us. “Already got the cleaning crew next door.”
Thank God.
“Our reign is finally here, Kings,” I gleam and have to steady my heart that’s beating wildly against my chest. “All the power at our fingertips.”
“All that’s left is our prize,” Zander hums. His eyes darken with merit. “Our precious rose destined to wither in our possession.”
“Wither and bleed,” I growl.
“That’s how we play the game,” Ares reminds. “Break her until she’s ripe and ready to be devoured.”
“Won’t survive a week,” I mock. “Guaranteed.”
“Good,” Zander shrugs and takes another go at his cigarette. “Then they’ll all know how ruthless we are.”
