Page 29 of Revenge of a Queen

I look between the two of them and they both share the same expression on their face. “So, you both know then,” I say and it’s not a question so neither of them answer. “Okay then,” I say and turn to leave.

“Where are you going?” Linc asks, and I don’t bother stopping to answer him.

“To be reckless and get answers,” I reply, before I’m out of the door and back on my way. I don’t hesitate in going for my car instead of my bike and I am putting it in drive and flooring it away from home before I can second guess what I’m doing.

It takes about fifteen minutes to get across town to the hill and it's a drive that is sickly familiar, once I get into the North Side of town. My dad and I used to drive this way home almost every day when we lived here. I push those memories aside until I find myself on track to Elle’s house or should I say Zack Royton’s? Who even knows at this point?

I arrive at the gates and take it in properly for the first time. The house is enclosed with a huge wall that has to be at least twenty feet tall and the large iron gates look more secure than a prison. I know the only way I was able to slip in last time was just pure timing and good luck. I won’t be so lucky again. I pull up to the front of the gates and notice an intercom, so I quickly wind down my window and press it.

There is a crackle of interference before a stern voice comes through the speaker, “Name?” Is all I hear.

“Marcus Riviera.” There’s no point trying to hide who I am. I’m almost sure everyone in there will know who I am by now, after what happened a couple of weeks ago. There is a pause, and no one answers me and just when I think I am going to have to buzz again, the gates start opening up slowly. Once they are wide enough, I drive through them and down the long road until I get to the front of the house.

It’s newer than most of the houses in North Hill and stands wide and tall across two floors. The front has large pillars on either side of the big black door and all the windows are trimmed in black too. I wonder mildly how long it’s been here and who lived here before they did.

I park and make my way to the front door but before I can knock it swings open and reveals Zack Royton.

“Little late for a house call,” he says, simply. It’s only then I register that I have no clue what time it is so I just shrug. “Are you drunk?” He asks, and I laugh until I realize how serious he is.

“No,” I say seriously before adding, “Hungover as shit but not drunk.”

“Are you calm?” He replies, and it’s then I can truly see it. I mean I felt it the day he hit me but now I really see it. That brotherly instinct. He wouldn’t let me close to Elle again if he felt like I would hurt her.

“Yes,” I reply, and he nods.

“Then you can come in,” he replies, stepping back and gesturing for me to enter. He nods his head over my shoulder, and I turn to see two guards that I didn’t notice approach us, turning and walking away. Very tight security.

I enter and stand in the hallway as he shuts the door and turns to look at me. We both silently assess each other before I break it, “Where is she?”

He doesn’t respond for a few seconds before he says, “You and I should talk first, come with me,” he doesn’t wait before walking further into the house and I have no choice but to follow.

I follow him into what looks like a home office and as I enter and shut the door behind us, he gestures to a trolley in the corner that has a decanter, of what I presume is whiskey, and four upside down empty glasses.

“Want one?” He asks.

“Will I need one?” I reply, in return and his only response is to turn over two of the glasses and pour us both a drink. I guess that answers my question. He hands me the glass and gestures to the chair in front of the desk, as he takes a seat behind it.

“I’m sure you have questions for me?” he starts, as he swills the amber liquid around his tumbler before he takes a sip. When I just sit there, unsure of where to even start, he continues “I knew your father.”

Four words I never expected. What the fuck? How the hell did he know my dad?

“How?” I force the word past my shock.

He shrugs slightly before placing his glass on the desk and clasping his hands together with a serious look on his face, like he is unsure of what to say.

“Michael found me,” he says, simply.

“Why weren’t you with Elle and your mom?” I ask, quickly.

He frowns, “I wasn’t with Elle and Sarah King because I didn’t know about them.” I can tell from his tone, that me referring to Mrs. King as his mom, pissed him off. He continues, “I was adopted at six weeks old by my mom and dad,” he says, before adding “Helen and Arthur Royton, you met them last time you were here.”

I nod, recognizing his reference to the elder couple who were present the day I discovered Cassie.

“They were always honest with me about not being my biological parents but that didn’t change anything for me. As far as I was concerned, if my biological parents didn’t want me, I didn’t want them.”

“Is Elle’s dad your father?” I wonder out loud.

“No.”

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