Page 17 of Broken Queen
I stomped down the corridor, my shoes dangling from my fingertips. Finally, as if realizing the gravity of the situation, Logan rushed after me, but he never made it past the corridor. He couldn’t be caught running naked after his wife when he had just been selected to be a board member of the Marked Blooms Syndicate. That would show weakness.
A few members tried to start conversations with me, but I held up my hand, stopping them. There were so many people I could’ve fucked. Sacrifices I had dipped my fingers into, but resisted because I wanted to be good. Loyal. Respectful. It was always enough to participate and show my appreciation for the sacrifices, but never enough to go against my vows to Logan, the man who had saved me from my father’s touch. A gentle squeeze of a breast. A taste of a neck. Trust me—oh, trust me, I wanted to do more, but I always told myself that if I played the role of the honorable wife and daughter, always giving more to the Syndicate, that I would be rewarded.
Even the contractor hired to renovate my father’s quarters had actually aroused interest in me for the first time in years, and yet, I had turned him down. To play the role of a good wife. An obedient daughter who didn’t screw her father’s hirees.
It was utterly humiliating.
I wanted to kill my husband.
Outside, I stomped through the grass. The magnolia trees were constantly in bloom here, budding, then blooming, budding, then blooming—in love with our perfect climate. Usually, their fragrance blended in with the atmosphere, but right then, it made my head spin.
I thought about that member who had smacked the server’s ass at the beginning of the dinner. Marc DuBois. I couldn’t kill the people I wanted to kill—I still needed Logan so that I could potentially be his puppet master wife—but I could have a little fun.
I called up one of my contacts—an assassin who often did personal contract killings for me. It wasn’t the best idea to kill off a Syndicate member, but lately, I had been particularly starving for chaos.
“Yeah?” he answered.
“Marc DuBois,” I said. “Make it a good show. His eyes and his hands,” I paused, clicking my tongue. “I want them.”
“Done,” the assassin said.
“And film it for me. I want to watch it this time.” Then I hung up.
A golf cart waited in the trees, but I cast my eyes on the two-story supplies shed. The closest weapon was on the roof. Maybe I could get my hands dirty for once.
I threw my shoes and ran toward it, holding my dress in my palms. The ladder lay in the grass, so I ambled it over to the side of the building. Making my way up, I held my breath as I reached the top wrung, then stepped onto the rooftop.
My heart fell to my stomach. Roofing tiles laid in perfect lines, but there was nothing else to see. The sniper rifle was gone.
“And so she crawls back to me,” a gravelly male voice said. A white button-up shirt with three buttons undone hung on Hazard’s shoulders, hinting at his freckled skin. The shirt was paired with worn blue jeans, with stains that were so vulgar, they became utterly enticing. Spice wafted up to my nose, mixed with his heady masculine scent. “Looking for something, Bloomy?”
“Where’s the rifle?” I demanded.
He beamed with excitement, a crooked canine to the side of his grin. Maybe that’s what drew me to him. That imperfection. He wasn’t hiding behind lies like I was. Hazard was absolutely everything he claimed to be.
“Tell me why you want the rifle, and maybe I’ll tell you where it is,” he said.
I scratched my scalp. I didn’t open up to anyone; it was better to keep everything guarded so that no one could use your truths against you. And how could I ever begin to explain the intricacies of being a secret society director’s only daughter to a contractor?
He pulled a handgun from behind his back, showing it to me as if it were a medal of honor. I recognized it: dark gray with a black engraving of my last name, Bloom. It was from my father’s nightstand.
My father wasn’t having his bedroom remodeled. Hazard was snooping in there too.
“How about this?” he said. “I’ll give you this pretty thing, but first, you’ve got to tell me why such a perfect little gem like yourself is upset.”
I planted my bare feet wide, bracing myself. A guttural roar ripped from my throat.
I didn’t give a fuck about hiding anymore.
“I give my life to this Syndicate,” I said. “I married the man my father wanted me to marry. When my father and husband wanted me to, I participated in every single sacrifice without questioning them. And what do I get?” Blood throbbed in my ears, my head pulsing with pain. “A slap in the face. Being told that I was lucky to have a husband who was on the board. And then, come to find out, that same husband is cheating on me with my exact opposite!” I cackled, forcing out a fake laugh, trying hard not to scream. “He’s probably been screwing her for months now!”
I curled each finger into a fist slowly, imagining squeezing their necks. But it wasn’t Caroline’s fault. She was simply having an affair with a wealthy, powerful man; I could never blame her for that, especially when the wealthy man was good at saying things that made you feel special. And I admit that when I was younger, much younger, I thought Logan was a prince too. He was so nice and respectful; it was hard to resist him.
But I knew better now. And if I had to, then I was going to use him for everything he was worth.
“Loyalty doesn’t get you power,” I said, gazing at the banquet hall. “The only way to get power is to conquer people. You force them to kneel. You show them they’re nothing without you. That’s the only way you make it in this world.”
Hazard stood behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders. His fingers were long and bony, like claws tearing into my shoulders, but as he applied pressure, a warm sensation crawled through me. His jaw clicked in my ear, but for the first time, instead of being mildly disturbed, it calmed me, like it was his way of saying, It’s all right.
