Page 151 of The Forgotten Queen
“If I had known how things would end, I would’ve killed Princess Seran too. Then I could have gone down in history as the man responsible for four royal deaths. Three will have to do.” His thin lips quirked into an evil smirk. “And it was kind of fun drugging Princess Seran and erasing all her memories. Breaking her down was easy. She’s such a fragile little wench.”
Marx swung his bound hands through the air, sending his elbow into Stoddard’s nose. The commander’s head jarred back with the force of the blow, and he stumbled to the ground.
Marx leaned over him, a fresh wave of anger funneling through his chest. “You’re wrong about Seran. Don’t you see? She’s the one everyone will remember, not you. Her strength erases everything you did. You are nothing.”
Defeat fell over Stoddard’s bloody face.
Then the next bullet was fired.
Marx flinched.
Blood spilled out of Stoddard’s stomach, and he began wheezing and coughing. Marx wasn’t sure if the guard had missed killing Stoddard with one shot on purpose or if it was because he was already lying on the ground.
Another shot was fired, hitting his leg, causing Stoddard to cry out.
The next shot hit his shoulder.
The misses were definitely on purpose. Any skilled guard wouldn’t have missed that many times.
Two more guards came and dragged Stoddard’s body off the podium even though he wasn’t dead yet. Bryant probably wanted him to suffer a long and painful death. Was that what Bryant wanted for him too?
Marx glanced at the shooter. His eyes were pinned on him—brown, like the color of Seran’s, but they lacked the sincerity that hers held.
He’d once told her that he would never regret kissing her or marrying her, and standing there in that moment, with a gun pointed at his chest, he still felt the same. He would never regret Seran or his time with her, even though it had cost him his life.
The guard readied his gun.
This was it.
Marx closed his eyes, holding his breath as the shot was fired.
Seran
Seran froze.
They were too late.
She watched Marx, waiting for him to collapse to the ground or for bright red blood to spill across his chest, but nothing happened. The guard firing the gun cried out in pain, dropping the weapon to the ground. He pulled his bloody hand into his chest.
Her brows furrowed as she looked over her shoulder to Myka and the gun in her hand.
“You shot the guard!” Renna gasped.
Myka shrugged, lowering her gun. “It’s just a flesh wound. A perfect shot, really.”
“You should have shot him in the heart,” Dannyn snarled; then realizing what she’d said, she placed a light hand on Seran’s shoulder. “Sorry. That was insensitive.”
“Where did you get a gun?” Renna asked, still baffled by Myka.
“From my dress.”
“You keep a gun in your dress?”
Myka blinked back at her. “Don’t you?”
“No!” Renna shook her head.
“He’ll be fine.” Myka motioned to the guard.
