Page 7 of The Queen
Their words hang between us, a pledge that needs no embellishment. I know their every gesture, the commitment in their voices. Eliza is the soul that unites us.
A muscle ticks in Damon’s jaw, his scrutiny lingering before he gives a single nod. There’s no warmth in it, just the cold calculus of power recognising power; however minute ours is compared to his, he knows who we are.
“I’ll hold you all to that, and if anything happens to her, anything at all, you four are going to be strung up by your fucking balls. Are we on the same page here?”
“Yes, Sir,” I murmur.
Damon spins without another word, his coat flapping like the wings of some dark angel retreating to his Aston Martin.
“That was intense,” Oliver blows out a breath seconds after Damon roars out of the driveway.
“Thanks for the update, Captain Obvious,” I growl and shove the front door open to find Eliza sitting on the bottom step, looking like she’s seen a ghost, which probably isn’t far off the mark.
“Did you get answers?” I ask. Gentle isn’t my thing; I’m a straight shooter, but I think she appreciates that about me. At least, I hope she does because some things will never change.
“Some. But it opens up more questions. Mum was taken out by a hit, but my dad doesn’t know who. No one knows. That’s why Lila is going after everyone. She’s on a fucking rampage, and she’s going to make everyone pay.”
“Why now?” James asks, sitting next to her and giving her a searching glare.
“Because I’m here. I don’t think she wants to hurt me; she wants to turn me.”
“Makes sense,” I mutter. “And Felix?”
She shakes her head. “Unknown. But if he’s involved with her, it’s another level of fucked up we have to consider.”
Her fingers twist together in her lap, her knuckles whitening with the force of her grip. I hate seeing her like this – so strong, so composed, but with this uncertainty gnawing at her.
“We’ll find out who did it,” Tarquin says, his voice firm. “We’ll tear up every stone if we have to.”
“If my dad can’t find out, then what makes you think we can?”
“Because we rock,” I reply, crouching in front of her. “We have fresh eyes and fresh contacts.”
She reaches out with a soft smile and traces the scar under my eye. “Who hurt you?” she murmurs.
Her question hangs in the air, and I smirk, shooting my brother an amused glare.
Tarquin raises his hand, and Eliza’s eyebrow goes up. “Ah fuck,” she murmurs. “Not going to hurt you, sweet boy.”
He baulks at the nickname, which makes me laugh. “You have him nailed, dead to rights,” I chuckle.
“Fuck you,” he growls and then sways on his feet. He is flagging. Fast.
“Bed,” I instruct. “We reconvene tomorrow.”
Her touch lingers on my skin, sending an electric charge through my body. It’s hard to focus when she’s this close, her scent wrapping around me. But there’s no room for distraction, not when our world balances on a knife’s edge.
James is already on his feet, reaching for Eliza’s hand to help her up.
She stands, strength returning to her posture as she slips into badass bitch mode again.
“We need to talk to Felix,” she states. “If he’s with Lila and not just against us... it changes the game.”
“We’ll deal with him. He is angry enough to have his convictions altered with the right incentive.”
“Here’s hoping,” she murmurs and turns to take the stairs heavily, battered, bruised, filthy and bloody, but still fighting.
“I love you,” I call out and then swallow as those words were not on my tongue a second ago.
