Page 1 of Broken Princess
1
Logan
A washof cold swept over me, and every part of my body seemed to go on pause. I couldn’t believe it. All this time….
My brain stuttered as I stared into space, trying and failing to collect my thoughts. The Christmas party around me seemed to have faded into oblivion, and when Cleo ended our call, I barely even registered it. I couldn’t hear or comprehend anything beyond the new scrap of information bouncing around inside my skull.
One time when I was a kid, I got bowled over by an older and much bigger cousin during a football game at my uncle’s summer house. He knocked me flat on my back, and the force of the impact snatched all the air from my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.
That was exactly how I felt now. Stunned into immobility.
A woman in a long blue dress stepped past me a moment later, and the sight of her snapped me out of my trance. Willow…
I lifted my phone and opened my messages. My fingers jumped all over the place as if in spasm as I tapped out a text, but the rest of my body remained rigid, weighed down from the shock.
Hey,I wrote to Willow. Sorry to break up your chat with Simone, but I need to talk to you right now. Come back to the East Room.
Five minutes went by with no response. Even though it was barely any time at all, it felt like eons had passed.
I kept staring at my phone screen, bouncing one foot on the floor and nervously rubbing at the back of my neck as I waited. When another three minutes passed with nothing but silence on Willow’s end, I gave up on texting and tried calling her instead.
A tinny automated message played in my ear. The number you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please try again later.
“What the fuck?” I muttered to myself before hanging up and pressing the redial button.
The same message played again. The number you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please try again later.
With a frustrated groan, I recalled something Willow told me earlier this evening. Apparently, cell phone signals were being jammed in some parts of the White House as part of the security measures for tonight’s event. If she was in one of those areas, that would explain why my calls were going straight to the automated voicemail. Either that or she’d turned her phone off for some reason.
Frowning, I strode across the room, heading for the short hall which led to the guest bathrooms. When I reached the door to the ladies’, I pushed it open and stepped inside, shoulders straight and chin raised high.
Two women in dark satin gowns were primping themselves at the pink marble vanity on the far-right side of the room. When they saw me come in, they gasped and scurried to the door behind me, filling the air with the cloying scent of their perfume as they passed. In the mirror, I could see them throwing dirty looks at me over their shoulders before they exited.
I didn’t care. I couldn’t just stand outside and wait for Willow to come out. The news I’d received from Cleo was far too important for that sort of politeness. I felt like I’d fucking explode if I kept it to myself for a second longer.
“Willow?” I called out, stepping down the row of toilet stalls. “Are you still in here?”
There was no reply. Every single door was open, and the stalls were all vacant.
I headed to the end of the row and stepped around the corner. There was another line of marble sinks and gold-framed mirrors there, along with two blue velvet ottomans for those who wanted to rest their legs for a while before they headed back out to the party.
Both seats were unoccupied.
I tried texting Willow again. When you get this, let me know where you are right away. I really need to tell you something. It’s about You-Know-Who.
With a gnawing feeling in my guts, I stepped out of the empty bathroom and into the hall. On my way back to the East Room, I spotted a familiar face—Willow’s friend Kate.
“Hi, Logan!” she said in a saccharine tone when she saw me approaching. “How are you?”
I gave her a tight smile. “Hey, Kate. I’m looking for Willow and Simone. Do you know where they went?”
Her forehead creased. “Willow… and Simone?” she said with bovine slowness.
“Yes,” I said, tapping my foot impatiently on the thick carpet. “I really need to find them.”
“I saw Willow at the party about twenty minutes ago, but Simone isn’t here,” Kate replied, thin brows drawing together.
My own brows shot up. “What? She left?”
