Page 106 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
Phoenix didn’t answer immediately. His chin lifted with aristocratic disdain as he stared out the window at approaching figures in black tactical gear, their heavy firearms glinting like deadly accessories against the canvas and prefab buildings of what appeared to be a well-funded military installation set up in Aeaea. They’d been planning this attack for a while, it appeared.
Achilles wanted answers, and he’d get them. “My father told me you were the one whispering lies to Chises Mnon all along. You separated my father from us, sent assassins after him. You were behind the massacre of the royal family—even the children. What’s the going rate for selling your soul to the devil nowadays?”
For a moment, he didn’t think Phoenix would respond. Then the older man turned sharply, ripping off his sunglasses. “I’m well compensated… more than you will ever be.”
“The Myrdons are broke.” Achilles leaned forward, desperation creeping into his voice. “Who pulls your strings?”
“The same master who will be moving yours, young prince.” Those pale eyes held a cruel light—Achilles had gotten under his skin, proving the man wasn’t as untouchable as he pretended. “Your sister asked me to pass along her warmest regards by the way.”
The threat was crystal clear. Cooperate or Gena dies. “The Myrdons really want to turn against my mother?” Achilles asked carefully. He couldn’t hide the fear clawing at his stomach anymore.
Silence stretched between them, followed by another superior grin.
“I know you’ll do the right thing,” Phoenix purred, his superiority restored now that he held all the cards. “Cooperate, and no one you love will be hurt.”
Achilles stared out the window at the sprawling military base—canvas tents arranged in precise rows, prefab command buildings bristling with communication equipment, armed guards patrolling with professional efficiency. This wasn’t some ragtag rebellion. There was serious money behind this operation. “Is it the Earl of Alexopoulos?” he asked. “Is he your new master?”
Phoenix sighed long and dramatically. “Remember when you thought you’d humiliate me by firing me? I made a promise that you’d regret that day.”
The door opened with a metallic clang, and more soldiers entered, their movements rough and efficient as they hauled Achilles from the helicopter. They marched him across the compound toward a substantial structure that looked more like a corporate conference room than a military interrogation facility. The architecture was too polished, too expensive for a simple rebel camp.
The door slid open, and Achille’s blood turned to acid. Polly walked through the entrance, her usually warm face wearing an expression of serene calculation. They’d trusted her completely—she’d been Bris’s closest confidante, her protector.
“Peder thought the world of you,” Achilles called out to her. “I thought you should know, you got the man killed who loved you.”
She flinched, her composure cracking for just an instant before she straightened her shoulders with visible effort. Brushing past him with pointed indifference, she addressed Phoenix in clipped, professional tones.
“The package has been relocated to the secondary facility as requested.” Her words were carefully coded but their meaning clear enough—they’d moved Gena somewhere even more isolated.
“Excellent. Ensure the accommodations remain… comfortable. We wouldn’t want our guest to feel unwelcome.” Phoenix’s meaning was equally transparent. Don’t make things too unpleasant for the hostage—yet.
Real worry gnawed at him as he stressed over Gena’s fate. Was she still with Dominique? The intense way that man watched her every move gave him the creeps knowing she was now under his control.
“The primary target remains at large, but surveillance indicates she won’t evade capture much longer,” Polly continued, her clinical tone making Achilles want to shake her.
They were talking about Bris. His hands clenched into fists, his attention drawn to something familiar in Polly’s grasp—his phone. He recognized the distinctive crack across its screen.
What if he could get to it? Who on this remote island would listen to him, would have the power to help? He still hadn’t figured out his mother’s code about the cross. Was this the moment to swallow his pride and beg his stepfather to let Bris and Gena go?
Who else? There had to be anyone else! Chises Mnon wouldn’t want his daughter in danger, but what power did he have here? Charisse had pledged her father’s support, and the Oshear family wielded significant influence in their country’s affairs. His mind clung to that hope—there was a family that had nothing to gain from Tirrojan politics!
And none of that mattered if he couldn’t get his phone away from Polly. His eyes moved from the device to her rigid shoulders.
“Tell me, Polly,” his voice dripped with contempt, “how does it feel to be responsible for killing the man who loved you?”
She spun on her heel to glare at him, and he was surprised to see her eyes shining with unshed tears before she stormed from the room, taking his phone with her.
That didn’t go the way he thought. Achilles slumped back in his chair, his mind racing for another way to reach the world outside before everyone he loved was dead.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Herfootstepsclatteredthroughthe ancient stone corridors. What had once been torch-lit passages now blazed with harsh neon lights, their electrical wires strung visibly along the corroded ceiling like mechanical veins.
Bris had found her way to this underground prison by following the well-lit cross against the marbled ruins of the ancient amphitheater. That led her to a crumbling maintenancetunnel where she’d spotted Nestor slipping inside. The chaos of the island attack must’ve left the usual guarded entrances to these gladiatorial chambers abandoned and undefended.
The hallways echoed with muffled sounds from a battle raging above—distant explosions, shouted orders, the thunder of helicopter rotors. She pushed herself faster through the labyrinthine corridors, desperation driving her forward. Nestor was just ahead of her, his silhouette slipping in and out of view each time he turned a corner. She had to catch him. The weight of her loved ones’ lives at play pressed down on her shoulders as she silently closed the distance between them. If she didn’t act now, she’d lose them all.
Nestor hesitated at a fork. Rushing forward, she slapped her hand firmly against his back. He spun around quickly, his kind, sad eyes crinkling at the corners with shock. “Bris!” Firming his lips, he grasped her arm and pulled her into the shadows of an alcove. “These hunters are coming for you!”
