Page 62 of Broken Queen
“We’ve only been seeing each other for a short while,” I said, cautiously reclining in my chair.
“But once she’s had a son, you can sacrifice her at the Masquerade. We’ll keep her on the guillotine until the thing finally clicks. Ten clicks or a hundred! Maybe even program the remote to do it the first time so we can get it over with.”
My head spun.
“By the time a grandson comes of age, you’ll be dead,” I said.
“That’s the point!” He smacked my arm. “You’re strong. Spry. Give me a grandchild just like you.”
An unsettling tension weighed me down, making it hard to think. Everyone used everyone. Bloom was using me to mold the board he wanted. Ernest had tried to manipulate me into killing Zira instead of him. And Zira had used me to help her get the power she had always wanted.
And I had used Zira, and my own sister, to get what I wanted too.
But Zira was right. Coming here had never been about avenging my sister. It was about my guilt. I hated knowing that I was a piece of shit brother who was responsible for all of it.
So why couldn’t I let it go of Zira?
“At the Masquerade tomorrow, you must interview every member that you meet,” Bloom said. “Nothing formal; just get a feel for them. We’ll discuss potential board members later that night and see where to go from there. We could even make an announcement at the Masquerade as well.”
“You’re not going to select the person yourself?”
He laughed, then stood, patting me on the shoulder. “I plan to do that,” he said. “But I do like having input from the board. It’s more—” he clicked his tongue, “—more interesting that way.”
I sighed; I hated every single word that came out of his mouth. I stood too, ready to leave.
“But son?” he asked.
I turned toward him, my face blank.
“Zira is smart. Cunning. Intuitive. She will find a way to eliminate you if you’re not careful.”
“She’ll eliminate all of us if she wants to,” I said flatly.
Bloom’s expression darkened. He studied me, trying to read if I was hinting at something Zira had planned.
“You must be ahead of her,” he said coldly. “Kill her if you must.”
I laughed. He was predictable.
I parted ways, whistling as I walked down the long hallway. He was a Bloom, through and through. He never got his hands dirty, always using other people to do his dirty work for him. And now, he was trying to use me to kill his daughter.
But as much as I should have wanted to kill Daddy Bloom myself, I couldn’t do it. Not until I gave Zira the chance to kill me first. I respected her too much.
I went to her room, my footsteps crashing down the hallway. A few staff members backed away, and one of the guards watched me from afar. He must have had orders not to intervene unless it had to do with Daddy Bloom’s safety. His daughter didn’t matter.
A shirt clung to her chest, pants on her legs as she sat on her bed, peering out the balcony’s glass doors. I blinked. Pants? I almost didn’t believe it was her.
I removed my father’s pistol from my holster, then offered it to her. A blank expression consumed her as she stared up at me.
“You know how to use it?” I asked in a quiet voice.
“Yes,” she said.
“Then use it. If you want to kill me, then kill me.”
I lifted my hands, showing her that this was it. I was defenseless. Unarmed. At her mercy. I even got on my knees, keeping my hands up, ready to take that bullet for her.
“If you let me live, I will kill your father. So you better kill me now,” I growled. “But once you get on that fucking board, you better kill your father. Make this right for everyone. Not just yourself.”
