Page 58 of The Broken Queen
Sure enough, it was pinned to the picture of me above his desk. It was of me when I was little, my head was up through the moon roof of the car my dad drove, and I had my arms out wide like I was flying. The memory had me sucking in a sharp breath.
His words when I was eight came back, reminding me of that happy memory. He’d replaced it with a blood-soaked horror that I blamed myself for years, from that first moment he’d ordered me to kill.
“Presley, honey.” My dad said my name as he carefully stepped inside the room.
I plucked the note from the picture on the cork board and let it fall to the ground.
Lánya,
I told you it was too dangerous. Next time, listen.
-Scotty.
My dad drew closer, gently taking the note from me. “Presley, come here, honey.”
I spun around to face him and began sobbing.
He caught me as I fell to the floor and began telling him every single detail of what Scotty had done. I explained the photo that Adrian had emailed me, and the burned body. I told him everything, and my father rocked me in his arms like I was a child again. I didn’t know where Gio went, but I didn’t care.
My dad carried me upstairs to my bedroom, where I eventually fell asleep. When I woke sometime during the night, my father had fallen asleep on one side of me, and my mother was on the other. The idea that they were there to keep me safe, to protect me, had me sinking into sleep once more and subconsciously hoping I didn’t wake up.
Chapter 21
Kingston
The smell of burning flesh still branded my nostrils as I began digging the six-foot-deep grave. I had managed to put out the fire last night and ensure it didn’t spread, but it took hours for it to completely die. I passed out on my bed inside the barn for a few hours before returning with a bandana tied around my face to help with the smell.
Rage pushed me each and every time I dug into the soil, ensuring the ash was cleared away from the body. But no matter how much debris I cleared, it was still smoking and charred.
Fuck. I didn’t like Adrian, but Presley cared for him, and she’d already lost him. She didn’t need salt poured into her open wound like this. Scotty was going to pay for doing this to her, which was the very next thing on my list to attend to.
I pulled out my phone, tossing the shovel aside. The body would need to cool completely before I could properly bury it. I’d already planned to get a casket here and wrap his body up, so he could be laid to rest respectfully in a proper grave. Unfortunately, instead of Italy, he’d be laid here, where his body would remain connected to Presley’s future.
Navigating over to my text thread with Henry, I shot him a message.
Me: I want the manor security system completely gutted. All the locks, all the cameras. Every keypad inside and out. The gates. All of it. Replace everything, and make sure you swap out the armory locks as well. I want it all changed, and I want men stationed around the perimeter, all of Scotty’s men need to be disposed of. I want them all dead, every single one of them.
Dots were already bouncing around before I finished my text.
Henry: Consider it done.
If Scotty wanted to test the nature of the beast we’d resurrected, then fine. He thought we were heartless before; he had no fucking clue what he just unleashed.
I punched out one last message, going with a hunch I had. I couldn’t prove it, but that image I saw on Presley’s screen and her ire toward her uncle told me there was a connection to Markos that we were missing. I wasn’t entirely sure, but I decided I’d go with it anyway.
Me: I want the bodies of all his men sent to Italy. Dump them in front of Adrian’s home with a message inked into each forehead.
Henry: Inked?
I glanced up at the smoke still rising from the body.
Me: Yes, inked. I want you to tattoo the bleeding black heart of El Peligro into each and every forehead. I want him to know we’re not just coming for him; I want him to know we’re coming to end him.
It was laterthat afternoon when I first saw Presley again.
A car made its way up the mile and a half drive that was rarely used. We typically just crossed the field between the manor and the farmhouse, but there was an actual driveway that was accessible.Her dad’s Range Rover rolled to a stop in front of the house, and Rylie exited the passenger side while Presley came out through the back passenger door.
Her parents tipped their heads back, taking in the view of the house. A tiny kernel of pride and anxiety swarmed my chest as I watched them inspect it. Rylie began gushing over the finalized details, and Kyle even seemed pleased as he tested the strength of the handrail leading to the porch.
