Page 5 of The Queen
ELIZA
My fists itch to fly,but I channel my dad and let it go. Let them talk. They don’t know a fucking thing about it.
Somehow, Lila’s involvement is circulating, and of course, it’s now looking like I’ve screwed everyone over because she’s family.
Well, fuck that.
I haul a piece of rubble to the side, pouring my anger into the clean-up. Luckily, the buildings are not as bad as we first thought. They’re mostly intact, minus the windows that were blown in. This was small, contained explosives set outside, meant to scare and possibly kill anyone close enough. We’ve lost a couple of people, and more have gone home, deeming this environment not what they signed up for. I don’t blame them.
Oliver and Raphael flank me, their presence stopping most of the remarks, I’m sure. Oliver’s hand finds mine, a squeeze that tells me more than words could. Raphael glares at anyone who comes near, daring anyone to make a move.
“Eliza’s not to blame for her family’s shit,” Robert’s voice echoes from somewhere behind us, making me turn to see him facing off with a group of second-years. “This is betrayal by herblood. Like we haven’t all witnessed that before. Grow the fuck up and stop being little bitches about it.”
To my surprise, the second-years stand down. Guess Gannon is one to watch.
“Let’s get out of here,” Oliver suggests his hand firm on my shoulder, guiding me away from the fight that’s itching to erupt. “Everyone is exhausted, and things are getting out of control. We need to back up and take stock.”
“Agreed,” Raph murmurs, taking my hand and practically dragging me along. “Let’s go.”
The walk back to the townhouse is a silent march. The Kings stay close, and their proximity is a constant reminder of the steadfast loyalty we share.
“Thanks,” I mutter as we reach the safety of our sanctuary, the door closing behind us with a definitive thud. “We need to get Tarquin cleaned up and put in bed.”
“Oh, yeah?” Tarquin responds eagerly with a raised eyebrow.
“You wish. You’re on your last legs,” I laugh, glad to be back home and away from the accusations. I wish we could’ve stayed to help some more, but it was too distracting.
No sooner have we closed the door than there is a knock, and James swings it open again, already on the offensive. He stands down when he sees who it is.
“We’ll wait outside,” he murmurs, gesturing to the other guys to leave me alone with my dad, who steps into the Entrance Hall with his eyes narrowed.
“Did I hear correctly? Lila?”
I square my shoulders, refusing to wilt under his glare. “Yep.”
“I need to know about Mum.” I cut straight to the chase; there is no time for dancing around truths that are long buried. “Was it really a drunk driver, or was she?—“
“She what?” His eyes are ice, daring me to say it.
“Taken out.”
Dad hesitates, the silence stretching between us like a chasm. “It wasn’t an accident, Eliza.”
“Fuck, Dad.” The revelation hits like a punch to the gut, leaving me reeling. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because some truths cut too deep.” He looks away, the lines etched into his face speaking volumes of the wars he’s fought in the shadows.
“Who did it?” I push, needing to understand the full scope of the betrayal.
“Nobody knows,” Dad answers, his gaze dark. “It was never solved.”
The silence claws at my insides as Dad stands there, the weight of his confession anchoring him to the spot. His eyes, usually so hard and unreadable, flicker with something that looks like regret.
“I should have told you the truth when you got older, but the story had already been told. I didn’t want to open old wounds or have you go looking for the truth.”
“The truth? Why aren’t you looking?” I shriek, suddenly losing every ounce of my composure in the face of this horrendous revelation.
“Every day!” he spits out. “Every fucking day for the last fifteen years!”
