Page 89 of Queen
The silence after is suffocating. The capos breathe like men standing at a cliff’s edge.
Then Emiliano nods. Slow. Certain. “She’s right.”
A flicker of surprise cuts across Romeo’s face. Ripples of discontent travel down the line of soldiers. But Emiliano doesn’t waver.
And I—with Guido’s trembling body still burned into my arms—know this truth: I may have bought us one night. But the war is already inside the walls.
The Ultimatum: Exile or War
The message comes at midnight. Not a knock. Not a call. An encrypted ping on a device Emiliano keeps locked in a steel drawer in his study—a line only enemies would dare use.
The green glow washes his face as he decrypts it. His jaw hardens, his breath sharpening into a blade. He doesn’t speak. Just shoves the device toward me like it’s a weapon.
The words burn into me:
The boy lives because you still wear the crown. Step down, and he walks free. Stay, and his blood will baptize your throne.
My throat goes dry. My fingers clutch the edge of the desk until wood splinters under my nails. For one heartbeat, all I hear is Guido’s laugh—high, bright—before the echo dies, smothered by the threat repeating in my skull.
Emiliano’s voice shatters the silence. “The De Lucas. Coward motherfuckers.” His fist drives into the wall, plaster splitting. “They want to play god with my family? I’ll butcher every last one of them. Hang their sons in the streets. Ship their daughters home in coffins.”
He means it. Every word is soaked in blood.
But rage can’t be the answer. Not this time. Not when Guido’s life is the coin they’re gambling.
“No,” I whisper, my chest burning with the word. “That’s what they want. For you to storm into their trap. For Guido to be the collateral.”
He spins on me, eyes blazing. “And what the fuck do you suggest, Zina? That we sit and wait while they paint targets on his chest?”
Our boy.The words choke me. His boy. My boy. Ours.
I step closer, forcing my voice steady. “We give them what they want.”
The air freezes. His stare burns into me, incredulous. “What?”
“We fake it,” I say, each syllable carved from iron. “A separation. An exile. Let the world believe you cast me out. That the Queen ran with her bastard son and left your throne cold.” My chest heaves, but I don’t break. “It takes Guido off the board. It buys us time.”
Emiliano laughs once, dark and jagged. “You want me to gut you in public? To make you weak?”
I lift my chin. “Better the world thinks I’m weak than burying my son in pieces.”
His face twists—rage warring with something far uglier. Fear. The one thing Emiliano doesn’t know how to fight.
I press my hand to his chest, over the hammer of his heart. “Let them think you shattered me. That I fled. But keep him safe, Emiliano. That’s all that matters.”
For a long moment, he doesn’t breathe. His hand clamps the back of my neck, rough enough to bruise. His forehead presses to mine. His voice comes low, guttural. “You’re asking me to burn my empire for him.”
My whisper cuts back, sharp as glass. “No. I’m asking you to burn me.”
The screen still glows, the ultimatum bleeding red across it.
And I know—power never comes free. Tonight, the price is me.
Breaking the Kingdom
The morning air is sharp enough to cut flesh. Clouds hang low over the estate, heavy and black, as though even the sky knows blood is about to be spilled. Guards line the iron gates, rifles glinting in the gray light. Servants pretend to work, but their eyes betray them—wide, waiting, drinking in the spectacle they know is coming. Word spreads fast: Emiliano summoned the kingdom, and today, a Queen will fall.
I walk at his side, but Guido’s absence twists like a blade between my ribs. He’s safe. Hidden. But to play this part, I must look like a mother stripped of her child, a woman cut from her throne. Power is performance, Emiliano told me once. Today, I let the world believe he ripped the crown from my head.
