Page 19 of The Queen
His eyes are just like my mum’s. Like mine. She always said we got them from her father. The Gannon of the family.
Gulping back the saliva that floods my mouth as I think about my mum, I shake my head.
“No?” Oliver asks, a note of disbelief creeping into his tone as he misunderstands me.
“Working on it.” I sweep my gaze across the room.
Tarquin is by a window, peering out with furrowed brows. Raphael taps his foot against the floor, a storm building in his steel-blue eyes. Oliver’s jaw is set as James falls into assassin mode, deadly and cold.
“He wants me dead,” I say, my voice low but fierce. “And we’re going to flush him out.”
“What about an inside job?” Raph asks.
Casting my glance at the scramble of students in the lecture hall, I sigh. “Hard to tell, we trust each other and that’s it.”
The weight of leadership settles on my shoulders like a mantle; fear is not an option. Each breath is measured, each decision critical. It’s clear that the students made their way to this particular room because I’m in here. They’re looking to me to fix this, and I fucking will or die trying. I’ve had enough of little assholes and bitches coming onto my turf to fuck with me.
Felix is a ghost in our midst, unseen but heard.
“Stay here,” I say to Robert. “Don’t let anyone in, and if anyone tries, shoot them.”
“All over it, Queenie,” he replies, cocking his gun and giving me a solid smile.
“You’re golden, you know that?”
“That’s what my dad says.”
“Smart man.”My uncle?
“Let’s go. Keep your eyes open,” I mutter to my guys as I move through the crowd, flanked by them. I have to lead, protect, and survive.
“Whereveryouare. I’m coming for you, you entitled little cunt, and I’m bringing hell with me.”
“Ouch,” Oliver murmurs. “You really hate this dude.”
“He hated me first,” I snap back, giving him a stiff smile as he chuckles. “I can still be an adult while having a kiddie tantrum, thank you.”
“Oh, by all means,” he replies.
In the corridor of this ancient building that is literally built like a fortress, I pause and look around. It’s darker in here with no real windows, just panes of glass high up on the stone walls. “I think it’s best we split up,” I say, my voice low and steady. “James, you’re with me. The rest of you take the west wing.”
James nods. There is no argument in his eyes, just that familiar glint of something dark and thrilling. I’m being strategic, but also, I’m being an idiot. I want to spend some quality time with him, and what better way than hunting a little shithead down. Together, we slip away from the others, our steps silent on the aged stone floor. The university’s main building is a warren of shadows, the burden of history in every stone.
“Left here,” I whisper, stopping to peek around a corner and seeing it clear, leading James down a narrow passageway. The castle-like structure of the university building feels like it’s closing in, pressing the danger down on us.
We continue, our footsteps echoing now in the empty corridors, the only sound besides our breathing.
A sudden noise stops us cold—a shuffling sound from behind one of the doors. We exchange a look, communicating without words. I reach for the handle, silently counting to three, and then burst into the room, Flick raised, ready to slice and dice.
It’s empty—just a stack of chairs and a chalkboard with half-erased equations. I let out a breath as James places a hand on my shoulder, a silent reassurance.
“Through here,” he says, gesturing to a bookcase that looks slightly ajar. He pulls it, revealing a hidden passage, dark and narrow. Without hesitation, we enter, the walls closing in around us, the unknown stretching out ahead.
Glaring at him, I shove him on his shoulder. “How did you know about this?”
He grins. It’s feral, and it thrills me. “I’ve been here a while and know most of its secrets.”
“You mean your dad passed them on.”
