Page 10 of The Queen
The knife feels alive in my grip, an extension of my own boiling blood as I draw her out. “Stupid?” I throw the word back at her like a challenge. “Stupid would be trusting you.”
“Put it away,” she says, her tone almost bored. But there’s a flicker in her eyes, a shadow of something like fear or maybe respect. She knows what I’m capable of. We both do.
“Or what?” I step closer, my knuckles bleach-white as I tighten my hold on the knife. “You going to blow me up some more?”
There’s a sharp and final click, and my pulse kicks up. In a smooth motion that speaks of practised ease, Lila draws a gun from her coat and points it straight at my heart. Her smile is all teeth, cruelly amused.
“Maybe I’ll just wait,” she taunts, her finger relaxed on the trigger. “Wait for you to screw up, to betray your own. It’s in your blood, after all—betrayal.”
“Fuck you,” I spit out, even as I stare down the barrel, seeing death before me. But I don’t move, don’t flinch. “Go on then,”I tell her, voice low, every word dripping with defiance. “Do it. Because I swear, you won’t get another chance.”
For a second, there’s a flash of something in Lila’s eyes—surprise, maybe, or recognition. She sees it too, the line we’re dancing on, one she can’t cross without consequences. My step forward is steady. I won’t let her see a flicker of fear.
“Elizabeth…” Her voice trails off as she stares at me in sorrow. “Your mother wouldn’t want this for you.”
“Don’t speak about her. You don’t know anything about what she wanted for me.”
“But I do. She was ready to leave the life and take you with her.” Her eyes widen as she blurts out that piece of information that probably should have remained under wraps.
Knowing she has frozen me to the spot, she takes advantage and quickly backs away, her gun lowering just an inch.
She retreats to her car, slamming the door with a force that echoes down the empty street. The engine roars to life, a growling beast ready to flee. I stand my ground, watching her, letting her know by my stance alone that I’m not scared or in doubt of where my place is.
As the car peels away, tyres screeching against the tarmac, a rush of anger floods through me. Betrayal stings, sharp and hot, but it’s nothing compared to the frustration of being unable to end this now, on my terms.
The taillights of Lila’s car shrink into nothingness, swallowed by the maw of the growing dawn. My chest heaves, adrenaline still pumping through my veins like fire.
Was that a lie? A lie used to make her escape, knowing what it would do to me?
Every part of my brain tells me she meant it, and that makes it hard to swallow without choking. Did my dad know? Did he…?
Fuck. No. Don’t go there.
I take a deep breath, the cool air doing little to curb the heat of my anger. My eyes dart around, piercing the shadows for any sign of ambush, any hint of further deceit lurking on the fringes. The street is quiet.
Needing to run off the sheer enormity of what Lila said, I bounce on the balls of my feet and then, with only a slight thought for the guys inside and how pissed they will be to know I’ve gone out alone, I launch forward in my trainers, having been on my way to the back yard to kick the shit out of the garden furniture and possibly the washing line for a while before breakfast.
But I need to move, to burn this toxic cocktail of adrenaline and fury coursing through my veins. My chest heaves with deep breaths as my head swims with thoughts.
I shove Flick into the back of my joggers as I move towards the campus grounds, looking a bit worse for wear, but not as bad as it seemed yesterday.
I quicken my pace, the morning chill cooling the sweat on my forehead.
The sun might be rising, but for some, it’s about to set permanently because when you come for the Queen, you better not miss.
7
ELIZA
I boltacross the dewy grass, my breath fogging in the cool air before dawn’s full light. The argument with Aunt Lila clings to me tighter than my sweat-drenched T-shirt. She threw a grenade into what I thought was the truth—my mum wanted out of the Hughes’ legacy for me? Out of this life? Out of my dad’s life?
With my legs pumping and my heart thundering, I push harder, trying to outrun the chaos in my head. But it’s useless; the revelation sticks, gnawing at me like a persistent itch.
The guys are going to have steam coming out of every orifice when they discover I’m gone, but I had to move, to run, tothink.
A patch of ground ahead looks all wrong—a reminder of what happened here yesterday. It’s a raised mound of earth, jagged and torn, much like my heart right now. I slow to a jog, then a walk, until I stand right before the anomaly, ready to push it back into place with my foot, but I freeze.
My breath hitches as I stare at the ground and then drop to my knees, fingers trailing through soil still loose from the blast.
