Page 11 of Reckless Royalty

The plan is set, but I can’t shake the feeling that everything’s hanging by a thread. And with Madison in the middle of it all, I know this is just the beginning.

MADDY

The SUV slows to a stop, and the gates of what must be Willow Bridge looms in front of us, tall and imposing. My fingers are curled tightly in my lap, the tension in my shoulders refusing to let go.

I glance at Mihai in the driver’s seat, but he’s focused straight ahead, his expression blank. He hasn’t looked at me once since we left, not that I expected him to.

Marina sits beside me in the back, her usual brightness muted, though she offers me a small smile. I try to return it, but it feels stiff, forced. There’s a strange hollowness in my chest, a sense of detachment as though everything is happening outside of me and I’m just a spectator.

The gates open, and we drive into the estate. It’s beautiful here, no doubt about it. Everything is clean and polished, the grass perfectly trimmed, the buildings regal and old-fashioned, like a postcard. But it feels too perfect, too controlled. Nothing feels real anymore.

As soon as the SUV stops about fifteen minutes later, I pull in a breath and get out, the cool air hitting my skin. I barely have a second to register my surroundings before I hear the sound of running footsteps.

A woman—a beautiful blonde woman with sharp eyes and an air of fury—comes barreling toward me. I don’t have time to move before she’s on me, her hand coming down hard across my face.

The slap echoes in the air, and my head snaps to the side. Pain flares across my cheek and my vision blurs for a second.

“Tell me who killed him! Tell me who killed my father!” she screams at me with venom in her voice.

Her chest is heaving, her fingers trembling as she takes another step toward me, hands balled into fists. I can feel her rage—it’s all-consuming, and it’s directed entirely at me.

I don’t respond. I can’t. My throat tightens, my mind racing to catch up with what just happened.

She hit me. She’s screaming at me. I should do something, say something, but nothing comes out even as she rears back for another hit.

Before I can make sense of it, Mihai grabs the woman’s hand, pulling her back before she can lash out again. His voice is sharp, commanding.

“Sofia, stop.”

She fights against his hold, but Mihai’s grip is firm.

“She knows!” the woman cries, her voice raw with pain. “She knows who killed him, Mihai! She’s the only one who saw what happened!”

“Stop this,” Mihai says, his tone softening just a little. “She’s not your enemy.”

Sofia lets out a harsh, broken sound, her fists clenched at her sides as she glares at me, her chest heaving.

“She knows what happened!” she hisses, quieter this time, her voice trembling. “I know she does.”

Mihai’s grip on her shoulders tightens, and pulls her closer to him, blocking her view of me.

“Sofia, go inside. Now.”

Her eyes flash, but she doesn’t fight him anymore. She takes a shaky breath, shooting me one last venomous look before turning and stalking toward one of the nearby buildings.

Mihai watches her go, his jaw clenched. He stays there for a second like he’s weighing his next move, before turning to Marina.

“Take her inside,” he says, not even looking at me and stalking after Sofia.

Marina takes my arm gently, guiding me away from the SUV and into the nearest building. I follow her in a daze, my face still stinging, my body numb. I can still feel the weight of Sofia’s accusation, the desperation in her voice.

She wants answers, and I don’t have any. I don’t even know where to start.

We walk through wide, marble hallways, Marina’s hand a steady presence on my arm. Words are coming out of her mouth, but I barely hear her over the roar of my own thoughts. I should’ve said something. Anything. But the words are stuck, just like they have been since the day my world collapsed.

Eventually, we stop in front of a door, and Marina opens it, gesturing for me to step inside. The room is spacious— much nicer than I expected.

A large bed sits in the center with soft linens, and a window overlooks the perfectly manicured grounds below. It’s comfortable, but it doesn’t feel like mine. Nothing feels like mine anymore.

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