Page 63 of Royal Deception
The blood in my veins turns ice-cold.
I look down at the briefcase, my grip suddenly unsure. My mind jumps to the worst possible conclusion, but I force myself to stay calm.
No. No. This could be something innocent. Someone’s lost belongings. A mistake.
But deep down, I know better.
Panic surges in my chest as my gaze darts frantically around the ballroom, searching for the only person who can make this feel safe.
Rory.
I spot him across the room, his sharp eyes already locked onto me. He must see something in my face—my tension, my fear—because he’s moving toward me without hesitation, cutting through the crowd like a knife.
The second he reaches me, his gaze drops to the briefcase in my hands. His expression shifts, darkening.
“Where did you get that?” His voice is sharp, edged with something dangerous.
I swallow hard, my fingers tightening on the handle. “A man—he just—he shoved it at me and walked away.” My voice shakes, but I push through it. “He was wearing a black cap, a long coat. I didn’t recognize him. He disappeared before I could say anything.”
Rory’s jaw clenches as he steps closer, his body blocking mine from view. He reaches for the case, but then his eyes narrow.
There’s something taped to the side.
A note.
His hand moves quickly, yanking it free. He unfolds the paper, his expression unreadable as his eyes scan the words.
And then…
A flicker of something cold and lethal flashes across his face.
I don’t even need to see the note to know.
This is very, very bad.
Rory unfolds the note with precise, clipped movements, his eyes scanning the words.
His grip tightens, knuckles going white.
For Veridex. We don’t appreciate being ignored. Next time, it won’t be so polite.
A muscle in his jaw tics. His shoulders go rigid, tension coiling through him like a wire pulled too tightly.
But while he’s reading, my fingers move on their own and I flip the latches of the briefcase. The lid lifts with a soft click, revealing a neatly stacked pile of documents stamped with Veridex’s logo. Beside them, a sleek USB drive gleams under the dim lighting.
And nestled among it all?—
A single black rose, the petals dusted with something fine and crimson.
My stomach twists. My breath stutters in my throat.
The briefcase is ripped from my hands.
Rory’s grip is iron-tight as he snaps the lid shut, his body turning into a wall between me and the case. “What the fuck were you thinking?” His voice is a low, furious whisper, his eyes blazing as he leans in close. “You don’t take something like this, Clary.”
“I—” My voice falters. “I didn’t… I didn’t have a choice! He just shoved it at me, and then he was gone.”
“Then you drop it.” His tone is razor-sharp, cutting through the panic still curling in my chest. “You don’t just hold onto it like some naive—” He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair before lowering his voice again. “Christ, Clary. Do you even know what this could mean?”
