Page 72 of Heartless Prince

18

Elias

The elevator hummed slightlyas I rode it down to the underground level. A bouquet of pink carnations hung loosely in my left hand, and I looked down at them with a faint smile. I couldn’t wait to see Tatum’s face when I gave them to her.

My plan to make her fall for me was running smoothly. She was responding to me a lot better nowadays—aside from when she slapped me the other week, but I managed to turn that situation around to my benefit—and I could tell that the walls she’d built up around herself were falling, brick by brick.

I had a lot of shit to do back at Roden over the last week, so I’d left her here alone for several days just to give her time to miss me. Time to start craving me and my company again. After all, they say absence makes the heart grow fonder.

She was probably sitting in her cell right now, sighing and mooning over me, silently begging me to return and fuck her brains out again. When she saw the flowers in my hand, she’d probably melt all over the floor.

Most people these days disliked carnations and thought they were tacky, but I knew they were Tatum’s favorite. I didn’t get them because I actually liked her, of course. They simply served a purpose in my plan of making her think I genuinely cared about her interests, likes and dislikes.

Truth be told, I despised her more than ever, because the effect she had on me was driving me mad. I kept telling myself I didn’t give a fuck about her, but whenever I saw her wide blue eyes staring up at me, something deep down inside would twitch and a spark would ignite.

Like the stupid Bonding ceremony, for instance. I wasn’t supposed to give a fuck what she wanted, wasn’t supposed to ask for her permission or anything of the sort. I didn’t need to, because I already got her permission when she signed her life and all her rights over to Crown and Dagger.

And yet, seeing her lying on the altar all wide-eyed and trembling sent a strange protective urge flooding through my veins. I had to ask her if she really wanted it; if she really wanted me. Of course, she said yes. She fucking had to. It was literally in her contract that she had to give her master anything he might want, so it was stupid and pointless of me to even ask.

I hated her for making me feel like that. Hated her for turning some treacherous little part of me soft and sympathetic. I didn’t want to feel anything toward her other than the unbridled malice I felt the first time I heard her name.

The elevator door pinged and opened, and I stepped out into the hallway. Someone was shouting, and Tatum’s door appeared to be wide open. Farther down the hall, three guards were pushing a gurney at breakneck speed, toward the wider service elevator at the other end. “Keep the fucking pressure on it! Don’t let go!” one of them shouted at the others.

Shit.Tatum could be hurt….

I dropped the bouquet, showering the floor with pink petals.

“What the fuck is happening?” I shouted, dashing toward Tatum’s cell.

A grisly scene awaited me. Blood was everywhere: spatter flying up the white walls, trails criss-crosssing the concrete floor, wide smears on the door, thick puddles soaked into the sheets on the bed.

Oh, fuck.

Tatum was sitting in the corner of the room, drenched in blood as well. Two guards were standing in the room, keeping watch over her.

“Sir, you shouldn’t be here,” one of them said, turning to me.

“Why the hell not?”

“You should be with your father. They’re rushing him to the medical wing right now.”

My brows furrowed. “Wait… my father?”

He gestured to Tatum. “She managed to get a weapon somehow. Stabbed him in the side of the neck and nicked some sort of artery or major vein. He might’ve bled out before we even noticed, but luckily, she was screaming loud enough to make us want to come and check things out. We found him just in time. Jones knows some basic med stuff so he applied pressure immediately to try and stop the bleeding. Seemed to work, but obviously we’ll let the doc be the judge…” He trailed off uncertainly, scrubbing a hand across his chin.

It felt like the floor had just dropped out from under me as a knife jabbed directly into my heart. My eyes widened and I stared back over at Tatum. “You stabbed my father?”

She smiled. Fucking smiled. “You’re lucky you weren’t here, or I would’ve done it to you too,” she said, voice laced with venom. The smile faded, and she spat in my direction. “Just wait, though. I’ll get you one day, you sack of shit.”

I stared at her in abject horror. I couldn’t fucking believe it. All this time, I thought my plan was progressing nicely, but I was wrong. So fucking wrong. Tatum wasn’t falling for me at all. Quite the opposite. She was a seething ball of hatred, hiding behind a mask of submission until this very moment.

A guttural roar echoed deep inside me, and my nostrils flared. “I’ll deal with you later,” I said through gritted teeth before turning and running out of the cell.

I headed upstairs and ran toward the medical wing as fast as I could, hoping and praying my father was okay. We didn’t always see eye to eye on things, but that didn’t mean I wanted him fucking hurt or dead.

I found the door closed and locked. “Hey!” I shouted. “Let me in!”

No answer.

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