Page 105 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
“Or her homeland’s her heart,” Bris said. “She was born on this island, found love here!”
Armed figures moved through the grove below. They disappeared in and out of buildings, coming closer. The church would also be searched. Where could they hide? His hands tightened on hers as he pulled her away from the panoramic view of destruction to the shelter of the bell hiding her from any onlookers. “I need you to stay here, Prissy.”
“Where are you going?”
He didn’t immediately answer, his dark eyes drinking her in like he was memorizing every detail. “I’ve been trying to think of every way out of this, but they’re getting closer and… listen to me. I need you alive. Your father was right. Everyone was right—if they capture you, they can make me do anything.”
Panic clawed at her throat. “What are you planning?”
“I’m going to surrender myself, make it so they stop hunting you. It’s the only way.”
“No! If they take you, they take me!”
“They want you dead.” His voice turned harsh. She’d never seen such stark fear painted across his features before. “Your people need you alive… Bris, you can help them! You know how to use the resources hidden on this island for our people, and you’re a fighter—I’ve never seen such a fierce fighter.” He swallowed hard, steadying himself while devouring her with his gaze like it might be the last time in this life. The thought made her claw desperately at his shirt.
“Don’t leave me!”
“You’re stubborn, I know that! And underneath that fire, your heart is pure gold—that’s exactly what these people need. If you care for them at all, you’ll let me go and protect our country, protect everything we fought for, and protect…” his voice cracked, “protect you.”
He kissed her then, full of desperation and longing for the world they might’ve had, but behind that despair flickered a spark of hope that this wasn’t truly the end. His lips tasted of salt and sorrow and unbreakable love. When he finally pulled away, his cheek brushed against hers like he couldn’t bear to leave her. “No more secrets between us,” he murmured.
She caught her breath as he stepped back, unable to believe she was letting him go, but what choice did she have? He was just as stubborn as she was, perhaps more.
Her world walked away with him, leaving behind only the acrid smell of smoke and burning dreams. Could he stop this destruction? Her heart ached with the consuming need to see him again, to hold him safe in her arms.
And she would! She’d make sure of it, even if it killed her. But what could she do from here?
She scrambled to the railing, her white dress whipping around her legs as she peered out at the soldiers moving through the olive groves like a dark wall. Then she spotted Achilles sprinting toward a military jeep abandoned near the chapel’s weathered stone steps. Her breath caught as Achilles vaulted into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life, and he peeled away from the chapel in a spray of gravel and dust, disappearing over the ridge only to reappear moments later—racing directly toward the Myrdon patrol like a man possessed. The jeep bucked and swerved as he yanked the wheel hard left, then right, creating the perfect illusion of panic.
From her perch high above, she could see his calculated desperation, the way he made every movement look like flightrather than a suicide mission. He was making it seem like he’d only come upon them by accident.
Oh, Achilles!
Harsh voices erupted from below—“Halt! Stámatá to óchima!” Achilles brought the jeep to a skidding stop, dust clouds billowing around him. Her heart shattered as he stepped out slowly, his hands rising above his head. Even from this distance, she could see the tilt of his chin that showed his defiance. Rough hands seized his arms, zip-tying his wrists behind his back.
They didn’t want him dead. Thank God for that small mercy.
She pressed her palm against her mouth to stifle a sob as they marched him toward one of their armored vehicles. A second squad peeled away from the group, jogging back along Achilles’s tire tracks with weapons drawn, their boots pounding the earth as they searched for her—they moved away from the bell tower, away from her, their figures growing smaller.
His trick had worked! And she was all alone. What would they do to him?
The ancient bell tolled again above her, its bronze voice so loud it seemed to rattle her teeth. More coded messages she couldn’t decipher.Find my heart; seek the cross?The answer seemed so close, and all at once too far away. It hadn’t saved Achilles. Tears of frustration burned her eyes. How could she be the brave queen her husband believed her to be when he wasn’t here beside her?
Across the way over the marble of the amphitheater ruins, the thin line of light suddenly intersected with a new beam to form a distinct pattern. A cross.
Below, as if answering that call, a figure walked across the grassy hillside with halted steps. She knew that walk! Nestor—he was on the island of Aeaea, and he was answering the signal.
Find my heart; seek the cross.Could it be that simple?
Those were directions to O Skia’s rebel headquarters.
Chapter Thirty-Four
TheBlackhawk’senginewounddown from a thunderous roar to a mechanical whisper as the rotors slowed to a stop. Across from Achilles sat Phoenix. The smug rat wore dark sunglasses reflecting the harsh glare of the sun. Instead of his usual military uniform, he’d chosen a charcoal gray suit that probably cost more than most Tirrojans made in a year.
Phoenix had finally gotten his revenge on the upstart Myrdon prince—stripped him of his liberty and dragged him away from the only woman he’d ever loved.
“You didn’t kill O Skia,” Achilles said, his voice cutting through the cabin’s stifling air. “That must’ve burned, being fired for the one crime you didn’t actually commit.”
