Page 63 of Broken Queen
Her forehead wrinkled with tension, her eyes fluttering across me.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked.
I wrapped her hands around the gun. “Kill me, Zira.”
“I don’t want to kill you, Hazard!”
Her hands were warm in mine, and for the first time, she was trembling in my grasp with actual fear. The guillotine didn’t scare her. Me holding a gun to her temple didn’t unnerve her. But having to face the possibility of taking my life, that scared her.
Irritation burned in my chest. Why couldn’t she just do it?
“Tonight is the Masquerade,” I said. “If you don’t kill me now, I will find a way to kill your father. And then you won’t have the chance to take over the board. The Syndicate will absorb it from you, and the carnage will continue. You’ll never get your revenge.”
“You won’t let that happen,” she said.
Anger tumbled through me, my chest expanding. “I don’t give a fuck about your revenge, Zira. I don’t even care about you,” I lied. “All I care about is finding my sister’s killer so that I can move on for once. But that’s not going to do anything, is it? Killing your father won’t take away my guilt. It’ll only ruin your dreams.” I gritted my teeth, my eyes on her. “So you need to finish this now.”
Her eyes were steady on mine. And that’s when I saw it—the crown of rubies and teeth resting in the corner of her room, on display for everyone to see. My chest burned for her.
“I was wrong to lie to you,” she said. “But you’re not going to ruin this for us. You know that doing this my way is the only way to make things right again. For both of us, my king.”
I howled, rage ripping through me. I hit the wall with my fists. I wouldn’t ruin this for us? My king? She saw something inside of me that didn’t exist. I didn’t believe in anything. Not in the world, and definitely not in myself.
But damn it all, I did believe in her.
“We will do it my way, my king. Tonight. Don’t be in that building for long.”
I heard what she really meant; if I was in that building at the wrong time, I was going down with it. Zira knew what she wanted, and she wasn’t going to let anyone get in her way.
I respected that. And if she wasn’t going to kill me, then I was going to do the same and not let anyone get in my way. I was going to kill her daddy, whether she liked it or not.
I pointed at the gun in her hands. “If you’re not going to kill me, then you use it for your plans.”
“Thank you.”
My chest tightened and I turned away, forcing myself to leave. I barreled down the hallway, the staff members and the guards following me like a swarm of gnats. The estate manager motioned to me, telling me he could find me an appropriate outfit for the Masquerade tonight. I shoved him into the wall, clearing my path. But then I stopped.
There was a certain appeal to being dressed like one of them, as Zira burned the world, and I was reduced to ashes with it.
A series of black suits and masks were displayed in a room on the bottom floor. The estate manager quickly measured me as I chose a suit, but to top it off, I wanted my black and white bull skull mask.
As the estate manager pinned my suit, I kept mulling over my plans. Zira and I going our separate ways and me killing her daddy, didn’t sit right with me. Zira was stupid for seeing shit in me that didn’t exist, but if this is what I needed to do to play along, taking my spot on the board until she figured out what to do next, then I’d do it. I wasn’t going to kill her father. I didn’t know what I was going to do.
But I would make sure Zira got the fire she wanted.
CHAPTER 18
Zira
I ran my hands over the rifle, the metal cold under my fingertips. The view of the banquet hall from the top of the supplies shed was like observing another world. The men in black and white suits streaming inside. Their women with timid faces, dressed in vibrant colors to highlight their sacrificial status. My body filled with tremors, knowing that I couldn’t change my mind now. I had to stop thinking so much about the future. I had to be more like Hazard and do exactly what I wanted, even if he died. At least I was more generous than he usually was; I had warned him about what I was planning to do. Hazard’s pistol and my father’s stolen engraved handgun lay on the roof in front of me, like a dark omen. Both of them had been gifts from Hazard.
Hazard was in the banquet hall. Somewhere.
The windows were exposed, showing off the beginning of the night’s festivities. Beatings. Trickles of blood. Artistic cuttings. It was always the same. And yet, I had walked through those halls, parading myself in white, as if I truly thought I had a chance at becoming a member. As if I could change things.
Hazard was right. I was never going to be in the Syndicate legitimately. This was all I had.
Luckily, Desmond Callen and Finn Carter were not at the Masquerade tonight, so they and their wives would be safe. I always needed access to pharmaceuticals, and it was never bad to have an assassin who owed you. With what I had planned, I needed at least some people on my side, and those couples had proven their worth to me.
