Page 47 of Bloody Royals

“Hey!” Leo yelled while sprinting toward us, gun raised and aimed at Atticus.

“I don’t fucking need your help!” I yelled at him. Atticus might be a bloodthirsty DuPont, but the viscous anger coursing through my veins was just as lethal.

Leo lowered his weapon and stared at us. “What’s going on? Where is Christine?”

Feeling frustrated by his question, I whirled around to address him. “Christine is none of your fucking concern. Don’t think I’m unaware of the way you watch her. You’ve always wanted her, but she’s well above your station, and you’d be smart to remember that.”

The guard’s lip curled in anger. Silence stretched between us, and I saw the murder in his gaze. With each passing moment, he was imagining ways to kill me in my sleep. “Yes, sir,” he replied, his tone anything but respectful. I wanted to hit someone. To rage. To make the world pay for hurting my girl.

Atticus ran a hand over his hair. “If you want to know what happened to Christine, perhaps you should ask Leo. He’s the one with a firsthand account, after all.”

I swallowed, my Adam’s apple bobbing as I processed this information. He was there? Did he let it happen? What the fuck!?

Leo turned pale as a sheet. “Is it true?” I asked, my voice a deadly whisper.

Leo looked around, sweat gathering on his brow. “We need to discuss this somewhere no one can eavesdrop.”

I reached for the door handle behind Atticus and twisted it. Inside was an empty bathroom. “Go. Now. Both of you.”

“Is that an order, sir?” Atticus asked, a smirk on his mouth. I hated that knowing look in his eye, as if he reveled in keeping me in the dark.

“A motherfucking command from your king,” I replied.

Leo shoved past us into the bathroom, and Atticus followed after him. I looked around before entering. “Check the stalls,” I told Leo. He kicked each one open, and once we knew for sure we were alone, I continued my tirade. “Tell me everything.”

“What do you want to know?” Leo asked.

“Start at the fucking beginning.”

Leo looked at Atticus, then back at me. “Your father summoned her. I was told to wait in the hall. The king left, but I thought it was strange that Christine was still in his bedchamber.”

I started pacing the small space, feeling this angry sort of energy I couldn’t get rid of. “Then what happened?”

Leo paused for a long moment, his eyes fixated on the ground. “I heard her scream.”

I stopped pacing.

Atticus cursed.

Leo reluctantly continued. “There was this tunnel in your father’s room, hidden. I’d never seen it before. I ran through it, and there was this…this fucking sex room. Whips. Chains. Everything you could imagine. Christine was sitting in a puddle of blood. I swear to fucking God, my heart stopped. It was splattered all over her face, under her nails, drenching her nightgown.”

“Was she hurt?” Atticus asked, his tone haunted. His hand rested over his belt where I knew a Glock was strapped to his side. He looked angry enough to pull it out and go on a shooting spree.

“He fucking raped her,” Leo replied in a dejected tone. His shoulders were slumped with heavy guilt. “Lord Geralt. I didn’t even know he was there with the king. They set all of it up. Christine took a lamp and beat his skull in. I can’t even imagine the amount of strength it took for her to do that.” He ran a hand over his head, then dropped it at his side.

“And what happened after?” I asked. I was sick to my stomach but needed to hear more.

“I took her to your mother. She instructed me to collect the body. She bathed Christine, got her dressed, and sent her away within the hour. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

Atticus nodded. “A week later, it was announced that Lord Geralt died of a heart attack. Seems your mother is efficient at cleaning up messes.”

“Too efficient,” Leo agreed, his fists clenching at his side.

Icy fear twisted around my heart. This was why Christine ran away. I’d been hating her for three years, and she needed me. She fucking needed me.

I glared at the guard. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

He scoffed. “You were hardly reliable enough to trust with something like this. I went to your mother because…well…I knew she was good at keeping secrets. She made me swear not to discuss it ever again. I’m probably going to disappear tomorrow because I’m telling the two of you.”

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