Page 78 of Merciless Queen

When exiting the bathroom,Zeno enters the room, a pile of clothing in his arms. Wordlessly, he approaches, drops the items onto the ground by my feet, mutters, “Dress,” and disappears toward his bathroom.

I wait until the door’s shut behind him before dropping the towel, not thinking twice about following his order. I pull on the black sports bra, leggings, and white workout tank, all noting the theme with the outfit. Next the black sneakers with pink trim, which look used, but not overworn. I avoid thinking about who they likely belong to.

Zeno emerges, dry in a plain white tee and sports shorts that showcase the bandage taped to his leg, still wet from earlier. His eyes are like a field during a storm as his steps take him right to me, jaw set and back rigid, seemingly more pissed than earlier. Clearly, he lost an internal battle between arriving and his clothing change.

I gesture to my fresh set of clothes. “Should I thank you for these or…?” My question is half snarky, indicating gratitude isn’t what he’ll be receiving, no matter his answer.

He shrugs and heads for the door. “Thank me or not, I don’t give a fuck. Either way, follow.”

Out of here?He’s opening the door before I have a chance to question what he smoked between the interruption of my shower and now. Or what’s been pumped into the air to make him risk this. Because itisa risk, allowing me out of here. I’ve played along thus far out of necessity, but whatever’s about to happen may change the board.

I trail slowly, glancing around the hallway, searching for someone to undoubtedly jump out at me and slap cuffs on my wrists. No one’s here, and when Zeno makes it to the top of the stairs, he turns, finding me still lingering by his room.

“Quickly, Volkov.”

“Patience, Mancini.”

A strange expression comes over his face but it only lasts a brief second before he’s shaking his head, scowls, and starts down the staircase, expecting me to follow. I do, catching him quickly by the time he reaches the bottom, and stride across the foyer to the entrance.

The same entrance he shoved me through the day before, he opens, tipping his head for me to exit. I pace closer, eyes on him rather than the vast outdoors.

“You’re kidding.”

He must be clinically insane.I’mthe one who had the breakdown, but he’s the one acting differently.

“Not at all.”

I walk by him, feeling a prickle trail down my spine. I’m not dumb enough to think he’s letting me go by any means, which is all the more reason to keep my wits about me. He could have left me and my people in a mass grave inside my mansion’s foyer, but opted to take me with him, which means he has other plans. Plans that for some reason include allowing me outside?

The sound of the door shutting and him approaching is muted by the sheer beauty of the land. While I noted it yesterday, it feels different in the morning sunlight. Fresher. A crisp scent blows through the grass, packed with the promise of a new day. The sun hasn’t fully risen yet, so it’s a gentle glow over the grassy mounds, glaring in my eyes, but I don’t blink away. At home, the sun is often shielded by the forest, and while I’ve appreciated the way it glows through the trees, this blanket of light is beautiful—more so than I’d care to admit aloud.

So distracted by the land, I miss Zeno’s purposeful stride right by me and down the side of the villa. All this for him to walk away from me? Or does he honestly believe I’d willingly follow him? At least in the house, I’ve yet to see anything dangerous, but he could very well be walking me straight to another chamber of captivity.

I scan the house, specifically the rooftop. If he’s going to take me outside, that’s because there’s an insurance policy hanging around in the form of snipers. But I spot no one, which only makes my apprehension grow, my throat tight with its next swallow.

He wouldn’t be this stupid. I could risk the chance by running the way his car brought us yesterday. Worst case: I’m shot in the back. Decent: he catches me and I confirm there’s no one here. Best: I escape.

Waiting for my Elite to arrive has always been plan A, but if he’s going to hand me this opportunity, why not make them plan B instead?

Zeno’s still striding away, his pace sluggish as though giving me the opportunity to catch up.Expectingme to. And probably from his injury.

This must be some sort of game. If not snipers, then he’s waiting for me to call his bluff. It doesn’t answer thewhythough. And the answer to that is still putting distance between us.

Run or figure out his plan? The answer seems so fucking obvious—tooobvious.Soobvious, he’s predicting I’ll make it. Which means, I need to go for the alternate route.

I turn around and jog his way, quickly catching up, hoping with every fibre of my being that I didn’t ruin my one and only shot.

Once I’m beside him, I ask, “How many guns are pointing my way?”

“None,” he replies without a beat. His nonchalant tone and lack of rigidity suggests it’s the truth. But what does he gain bynothaving weapons trained on me? Who’d risk such a thing when an enemy’s involved?

Ugh!I’m going to drive myself crazy trying to decipher this. As Pakhan, I’ve learned people are fairly predictable. Survival is their main focus, and anything else is secondary. Zeno, from the first instance I saw him in the club, has been anything but predictable.

He’s challenging me in ways no one ever has before, and I despise him for it.

Maybe because you see some of yourself in him.If my mental self had a physical manifestation, she’d be shot dead this instant.

“So when you said I wouldn’t make it off the property earlier…”

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