Page 74 of The Kings
ELIZA
Shaking my head,I face Raphael, Tarquin, James and Oliver as we head out the front door into the morning light, ready to face a new day. “I need to attempt a ceasefire.”
“With?” Oliver asks with a frown.
“Felix, obviously.”
“And who would that be?” Tarquin asks.
Tilting my head, I suddenly roll my eyes. “Oh, yeah, sorry. My half-brother. Guess we didn’t get to that portion of the Hughes Family Saga last night.”
“The guy you fought at your dad’s is your half-brother?” Raphael reiterates with a slow nod. “And he hates you and wants what’s yours?”
“Couldn’t make this shit up, could you?”
“Classic long-lost child shit. Doesn’t take a genius. He tried to take you out. Is he the asshole behind all this BS on campus?”
Grinning, I feel light as air as I grab his hand and bring it to my lips to kiss before linking our fingers together. “I love that about us. We don’t need heartfelt, hours-long explanations that dig into our insecurities and doubts. We just get up to speed and move forward.”
He grins, pulling me against him as he wraps his arms around my neck. “Who has time for that emotional crap?”
“Not me,” James mutters, but gives me a long, searching look that speaks of our passionate kiss that also needs to move forward. Soon. We aren’t there yet. I feel diving into the sack with him will ruin the dynamic there. He is a dark horse. The silent killer who will take you out without you even noticing. I want to experience James as he was intended and that means waiting.
“Exactly,” I agree, glancing at Oliver, who single-handedly dug a hole in the back garden last night to dump Grenville’s corpse; despite my protests to help, he wouldn’t hear of it.
“Shit just got real,” I mutter, blinking at Tarquin as he gives me that lazy grin that makes my clit twitch.
“So, truce with big bro?” he asks, drawing the conversation back around. “How do you want to play it?”
“As quickly and as mess-free as possible. But I need a second. What he wants, I can’t give him, so there has to be an alternative.”
They agree, and with that decided, we head further out into the crisp autumn morning, ready to take on the world—or at least Castle University.
But even if we feel on top of the world, the undercurrents still lurk. The air is heavy with whispers, and the student body is a hive of nerves ready to snap. My guys—my Kings—have their eyes sharp, their senses tuned to every shift in this restless current.
“Let’s just try to have a normal day,” I mutter as we head into the old Castle building and break apart.
“Normal?” Oliver asks. “What the fuck is that?”
Giggling, I move to the left corridor and head down to my first lecture, hoping against hope I don’t get kicked back out for a severe case of non-attendance since I started here.
But today, we play the role of diligent students, focused on class and not on the shitstorm that is still swirling all around us.
As I slide into my seat, the lecture begins, words about ancient civilisations washing over me, reminding me of the power of empires and how far we’ve come.
The professor drones on, but I can’t concentrate now. The tension crackling through the present has my full attention. It’s a silent, screaming alarm in my head, one that I’ve learned to trust. So when the first blast hits, rattling the stained-glass windows of the lecture hall, I’m already moving.
“Down!” I shout, not bothering with decorum as chairs scrape and bodies jolt in confusion. My heart hammers a fierce rhythm. Instinct and adrenaline kick in; the training sessions, the drills—it’s all muscle memory now.
I hurdle over rows of seats, reaching the closest cluster of students. There’s no time for fear, only action.
Glass shatters somewhere above us, and I know the guys are out there, converging on this hell that’s broken loose. Each of them is a force of nature; they’ll be zeroing in on the quad, the eye of the storm, where I need to be.
“Move!” I bark, ushering a handful of students toward an emergency exit. I can hear the sounds of panic outside, the screams and cries muted by thick walls as the shock reverberates around the university halls. This is real-world shit, and most are not prepared. Not yet. Some are and are already heading out, armed to the teeth to deal with this threat that concerns all of us.
I burst out into the open air, and I scan the scene quickly. The quad is swarming with movement, figures darting, but my gaze zeroes in on my guys. Kings protecting their Castle.
Raph’s broad shoulders are like a battering ram as he clears a path through the crowd. Tarquin, never far from his twin’s side, darts with the grace of a panther, his blue eyes scanning for threats. James, with his eagle eye, is already armed and headingtowards higher ground. Oliver is slipping through the masses, a ghost bringing safety or death—whichever is called for.
