Page 57 of Broken Queen
“What happened, exactly?” he asked.
“We were supposed to kill Ernest together, but he did it without me.” I didn’t have any proof, but I knew what had happened. Everything I was saying to my father was wrong, a complete betrayal, but it was the only way I knew how to get back my power. My fingers tingled, but I rambled on: “What if he kills me too? What if he tries to kill you? I don’t know?—”
“You gave him too much power,” my father said. “Just like I did with your mother.”
An oppressive weight filled the room, making it hard to breathe. I hated when he brought up my mother, and it unnerved me that he was bringing her up in the context of Hazard. As if they were the same.
My father was considering me his equal for once, and I didn’t like it.
“You know what you have to do,” he said. I swallowed hard, lowering my eyes. “Kill him before he kills you.”
CHAPTER 16
Hazard
The pond water was pungent in the air, the sun glaring on the surface like a magnifying glass ready to roast a stream of ants, but all I could smell was that sweet vanilla mixed with her natural sweat. Zira’s irritatingly addicting scent. And even with this frustration roaming in my mind, my dick was halfway there. My head burned with questions, wanting to know the goddamned answers this time. I needed to show her that I saw through her lies. Whatever she was hiding, it wasn’t going to work on me.
But that wasn’t how it was playing out at all. She was still alive, and I didn’t have any answers about Gabby’s past. Instead, Zira had me on my knees.
The replacement contractor nodded at me as I crossed the main hallway of the Bloom Estate. I ignored him, going straight to Zira’s quarters. She was on the phone in front of her laptop, perched behind her desk like a corporate queen. A flowing cream colored dress with extravagant layers and a lace bodice wrapped around her, like a bohemian fairy.
She quickly closed the laptop and stowed her phone. What else was she hiding? Maybe I was just paranoid, but I didn’t care. She was hiding secrets from me and I was tired of it.
She placed her hands on her lap and waited patiently. I didn’t say a word.
“What can I help you with?” she finally said, breaking the silence. Was she serious? Treating me like I was a walk-in client with business ready for the board? Fuck that.
“You killed Gabby, didn’t you?” I said. “That’s why you won’t tell me the truth. You know I’ll kill you if you do.”
Her jaw dropped. In reality, I knew she didn’t kill Gabby. A person like Zira takes responsibility for her actions; she wouldn’t hide behind anything, even if she regretted it. But accusing Zira of something that went so far beyond her beliefs would be one of the best ways to spur her into action. To force her to admit the truth.
“You don’t believe that,” she said. “You couldn’t.”
“What other explanation is there?”
She grabbed my hand, a sigh escaping her mouth as she led me through the estate. We took a golf cart over to the banquet hall, and inside, we went to the farthest room down the hallway.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
She pressed on a picture frame to the side of the room, and a wood panel opened, revealing a staircase that led underground.
A fluorescent light flickered on, illuminating our descent. Water dripped, the tap against a metal basin echoing like the ticks of a grandfather clock. The stale scent of decay and dust lingered in the air. Wooden boxes framed the stone-lined the walls, like filing cabinets deep in the center of the earth. It reminded me more of a tomb than an office space.
“The fuck is this place?” I asked.
“There are thousands of people here,” she said. “Thousands.”
It was a tomb, then. An underground tomb right underneath the picturesque Bloom Estate. The irony was infuriating.
“Do you know how many of them are men?” she asked. Sorrow and pain shadowed her eyes, her posture heavy, like she knew how messed up the entire thing was. I didn’t say anything, too aggravated to give into that kind of lecture, so she continued: “Forty-six. That’s it.”
That number hung in the air, creating a blockade between us.
“Forty-six men that died during the Masquerades over the last three centuries,” she continued. “Sure, the Syndicate has killed plenty of men outside of these walls, but when it comes to the Masquerades? Thousands of members had their wives and mistresses killed and stored here. To be forgotten. To be kept ‘safe’ so that no one would ever find them. To show how much power they have.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she ground her teeth, forcing the emotions to stay inside of her. A vein in her forehead pulsed with fury. I wanted to hold her, to tell her that it wasn’t her fault, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Because Zira wouldn’t do the same for me. She was too selfish, even if her desires destroyed the people on her side.
