Page 76 of Revenge of a Queen

ELLE

Iput the phone back into my bag after I tried calling Z back. I take a moment to myself in the stupidly large music room I came across. Such a far cry from what they have over at Hallows High. I let my fingers dance across the skin of a drum set as I try to imagine what life would have been like if that night never happened. Would I have met the same fate another time? Would Michael still be alive? Would Marcus and I be what we are now?

“Well, look here, it seems I've found myself a lost princess again. Or should I say Queen?” The blood in my veins turns to ice as the last voice I ever wanted to hear again pierces through the room. The goosebumps that dance across my skin no longer have anything to do with the cool December air filtering in through the window and I can’t suppress the flinch I let out.

“I thought I'd never get you alone,” he continues, and his words crawl over my skin, his tone dark, demonic and completely giddy at his findings. I turn and come face to face with Greg Donovan. My best friend's brother, my child's biological father, my rapist.

I don't speak straight away, I can’t. I won't allow him the satisfaction of hearing the tremble that will shake my voice. No amount of preparing or training could make me ready for this. To come face to face with the man who raped me.

He hasn’t changed in the almost four years since I’ve seen him. He is still as handsome as he ever was, beautiful and blonde, just like his little brother. The only difference between them is the look in their eyes. Asher might be dark and corrupted by everything he has seen, jaded by it, but he still knows how to feel, how to love. It might have been limited by his trauma and the demons he calls life, but it’s there. He shows it to me, Cassie brings it out of him every day, and I’m sure one day the right person will make it fucking shine.

Greg wasn’t just born into the darkness, he was made with it, it seeped into his bones until his very essence was nothing but black. That blackness pours out of him and mars his features until all you can see is pure fucking evil.

He is watching me, assessing me, as he starts to slowly circle the large room, somehow still managing to move towards me at the same time. Casually, carefully, stalking what he thinks is his prey. I steel myself, taking comfort in the feeling of the pistol strapped to my thigh. Relish in the two blades buried into the corset of my dress and find peace in knowing my Rebels are somewhere close by. They will have my back.

When I'm finally confident enough that I can speak without my voice shaking I force a bored tone into my voice, "Gregory, to what do I owe this unfortunate interaction?” I offer him the fakest, sweet smile I can manage.

He smirks at me, like my uninterested tone is exactly what he wanted, “I had been looking for you for sometime, Elle,” he puts emphasis on my name, and the way it sounds on his tongue makes me want to never hear it again. Change it until he can’t ever say it again. Every step he takes brings him an inch closer and makes my fear increase tenfold, fear I am pushing down. Hiding as well as Z has trained me to.

I smile a taunting grin ensuring to show not even an ounce of the fear that infects my insides “Sorry, I didn’t realize the devil looked for people. Don't they just fall at your feet?” I make a gesture to the floor before him, disguising my aim at bringing my fingers close to the slit in my dress just a breath away from the grip of my gun.

His smile widens, “Oh, the princess has a sense of humor now?” he moves towards me again, but still, I remain rooted to the spot and the glint in his eye turns my stomach.

“I have a lot of things I didn’t on our last encounter,” I say hoping the blank look on my face is enough to convince him he isn’t affecting me. It’s a lie. The fear is pulsing through me, forcing its way into me, and trying to take over my body. I hear Zack’s voice in my head telling me not to panic.

“Oh, trust me, I’ve noticed,” his words slide under my skin and cause it to prickle. I don’t like his tone and my fingers itch to just pull out my gun and end him right fucking here. Paint this pretty cream floor with his fucking organs. He deserves it, I don’t think anyone deserves it more. No one would mourn a sick, sadistic fuck like him.

He ascends upon me, slowly, quietly. He thinks I'm the prey, and he is the hunter. Fool me once, Gregory. Shame on you. You don't get a fucking second chance. If he came for me now, I’d welcome it, beg him to. Just so I could feel the relief of gutting him and allowing his blood to drench my skin. It would feel cathartic. Like an artist creating a masterpiece, except my Sistine Chapel would be his dead fucking body.

I watch his every step, assessing the risks of him getting close to me but I don't move, not even a fucking inch. Show no fear.

“How about I make you a deal?” he offers, like anything he could do for me would be a favor.

“I don’t make deals with the devil,” I toss back without pause.

“The devil has nothing on me,” he smiles, all fucking teeth like it was a compliment. Yeah, don’t I fucking know it, you psychotic little freak.

My fingers burn to curl around the pistol at my thigh, or to whip out one of my knives. My blades are a part of me as much as my fucking limbs. He makes one wrong move, and I don't give a fuck about who is here or what the clean-up would be. I won’t fucking hesitate to gut him here and now, until his intestines spill on this pretty marble floor.

He continues, “I am heir to a fucking throne that is finally within reach. I don’t need some fucking scorned bitch on a mission messing all that up. You think I don’t know what you’ve done?” he taunts me, his smile finally turning truly sinister instead of charming. Ah, finally his true face, the one I know better than anyone. “You would be surprised by what I know, princess. You want to survive? Then run, fucking disappear before I catch you and finish what I started three years ago.”

I laugh, “What makes you think that isn’t exactly what I want?” My fingers dance along my holster, willing him to come for me now. There is a flash of surprise across his face for the first time since he stepped into the room, so I push on.

“You wanna make me bleed again, Greg? Then bring it the fuck on, I’m not the scared little girl you took from the woods anymore.”

“Oh, I can see that,” he licks his lips, as he drags his gaze down my body lingering on my breasts before flicking his eyes back to me, “What does the princess desire?”

“What I want, you can’t give me,” I spit at him, I'm done holding back. I will take my fear and turn it into fucking fire and then enjoy watching him fucking burn.

For the first time, I advance towards him letting the venom seep into my voice, “I want to look down into your cold, dead eyes as they stare back at me, Gregory. I want you to feel so much pain that you wish you never laid a fucking finger on me. I want your fucking rapist body bleeding out at my feet, you sick son of a bitch.”

He takes a step forward, his excited glare sparkling once more, “Ohh, temper temper,” he muses. “I thought I’d fucked that out of you, maybe we should go again.”

He’s so concentrated on me that he didn’t notice the dark shadow enter the room. That was his second mistake, his first was thinking I would ever give him the chance to get me alone.

“Take one more fucking step, Donovan. I dare you,” Marcus’ voice wraps around me like fucking silk. Soothing me instantly and reminding me of the power I have. Greg turns and takes in Marcus’ form and his brothers standing next to him.

He tuts, “Not one, but three Rebels by your side, ey princess? Not surprising, after all I know how sweet that cunt is,” he winks at me like we are on the same side and bile floods my throat.

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