Lahat ng Kabanata ng QUEEN OF THE RUINS: Born to Power. Crowned in blood : Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

Jace. The reports didn’t make sense. I sat by my desk reviewing each one of them. The warehouse incident, the missing goods. Nothing had actually been stolen before. No shipment rerouted. No trace of intrusion except a single, silent alert from the inside cameras that had gone off for exactly seven seconds before cutting out. But now, it was the opposite . Someone was testing how far they could push before her father noticed. I leaned back in my chair, jaw locked, the security monitors in my office doing nothing to drown out the irritation building in my chest. She had no idea. Memories of last night flashed back into my mind. I had to drag her for her own safety. Yes, that was it. I dragged a hand through my face. I hadn’t told her father was being hospitalized , he had collapsed the same night the warehouse was compromised, a sudden drop in blood pressure, the doctors said. Nothing life-threatening, but enough to keep him under observation. I closed the file, rubbi

Jace The call came in at 5:42 p.m. Right between one of the doctors explaining Mr. Mann’s chart and another report from the docks about the missing shipment. “Sir—” The panic in the man’s voice made my stomach drop before he even said it. “Kamara’s gone.” For a full second, I didn’t breathe. “Repeat that.” “She didn’t show up at the gate. Tracker’s inactive. We pinged her last known location near campus but—” The rest of it blurred. I was already moving. The hospital corridors stretched around me in sterile white, the smell of disinfectant turning sour in my lungs. Mr. Mann was still unconscious two floors up—machines breathing for him—and now his daughter was gone. I didn’t wait for clearance or protocol. I didn’t tell the doctors. I just walked out, my boots echoing off the tile like gunfire. By the time I hit the parking lot, my pulse was pounding so loud it drowned out the world. “Pull the feed,” I barked into the comm. “Every camera from the university

Kamara’s pov My chest heaved as I froze in place. The last thing I expected to see standing in front of me. The shock in his eyes mirrored mine. “What…what are you doing here, Brian?” I finally managed to speak again. “H-how did you find this place?” I was still shocked from the scene that just played out in front of me. What kind of martial art was that? “I… I was driving by. I heard some noise coming from here, and—I don’t know—I thought I’d check it out. I didn’t expect…” His words faltered as he glanced at the shadows behind him. I followed his eyes to the figure—the one I had expected to show up in the first place. He was drenched in sweat, not in his usual formal neat suit but his shirt was rolled to his elbow, three buttons of his short undone, revealing his chest. I swallowed at the sight. “Kamara?” Jace’s eyes traveled from my head to toe then slowly shifted to Brian. “What’s he doing here?” This time, Brian was one to answer and he didn’t look impressed by

JACE I should’ve protected her. The thought wouldn’t stop hammering in my skull, louder than the city outside the apartment. I wasn’t even thinking straight anymore, fingers gripping my car keys so tightly the metal dug into my palm. One job. One simple job. And I still managed to fail her. My jaw tightened until it ached. The image of Kamara, breathless, limping, terrified, and worse, that bastard Brian right there with her. For some reason, him being around her didn’t sit right with me. And no, it wasn’t just because of jealousy. Or so I told myself. The moments kept replaying in my head. Had he not been there, who knew what would’ve happened? Because as much as I hated to admit it, if he hadn’t shown up, I wouldn’t have made it in time. I slammed my fist against the apartment wall. Once. Twice. Again. And again. Pain shot up my arm, sharp and hot, but I didn’t care. A thin trail of blood smeared across my knuckles. I could feel the sting, the heat and the remin

Kamara The next morning, school felt like the last place I should be. But staying home meant thinking too much, so here I was—walking through the hallway pretending I wasn’t one wrong breath away from breaking. I'd contemplated it a million and one times, the world would be alright if I wasn’t in it, I thought at some point. I dressed for school on autopilot—uniform, bag, hair pulled back—my hands moving like they belonged to someone else. My mind stayed stuck in that hospital room, replaying every sharp word my father threw at me. I shut my eyes, inhaled, opened them and returned to the Art class that had been going on for about two hours now. Art at a point in my life, used to be my safe space, mom loved it, so as time went on I grew to find pieces in it too. But now, I couldn’t even remember the last time I stood in front of a Canva. The smell of acrylic paint clung to my fingers long after our art instructor dismissed us. The canvas in front of me still felt unfinishe