Page 10 of Broken Crown

But he shows no fear.Instead, the only thing I see in his dark eyes is his love for me and his assurance that everything will be okay.

With an ominous chuckle, the man with the scar pulls the trigger, the deafening shot startling me awake.

I jolt upright in bed, panting and clutching tightly to my chest as if that will help contain the terror consuming me.I swing my gaze toward the window, expecting to see Creed’s lifeless body on the floor, blood pooling around him.Instead, there’s nothing.

My hands shake uncontrollably as I peel the duvet off my body, my skin slick with sweat.My legs feel like jelly beneath me, but I still manage to lurch myself forward toward the bathroom.I totter in the darkness for a few moments before the sensors awaken, casting an eerie florescent light in the room.

I squint against the brightness, then turn on the faucet and splash water on my face, exhaling a long sigh.

“It was just a dream,” I remind myself as I place my hands on the ledge of the vanity for support, every inch of me still jittery.“Just my subconscious twisting around a traumatic event.”

Even I don’t believe myself.If these dreams are simply me reliving these traumatic events, why was I tied to a chair?Why was Creed also restrained and kneeling on the floor?And who’s the guy with the scar?

Sucking in a breath as if it may be my last one, I close my eyes, hoping to ground myself in reality.

And therein lies the problem.

The dream felt real.More real than any of my previous night terrors.I doubt anything will ever convince me otherwise.

ChapterFour

Creed

I stare at the ceiling,watching the shadows of tree branches, listening to the occasional hoot of a lone owl or a car driving in the distance.Other than that, the world is peaceful at nearly four in the morning.

Except my mind is definitely not at peace.

How can it be when the only thing I’ve thought about all day is my surprise run-in with Hayes Barlow?

I’ve tried to erase it from my memory, pretend it never happened.

But that’s easier said than done, especially when I showed up at the football pitch for AJ’s match and saw the look on Rory’s face, a dead giveaway that my father had already shared the news about Callie Sloane’s remains being found.

It felt like a huge deception to sit there and keep Hayes’ surprise appearance from her.I justified my actions by convincing myself that the truth would do more harm than good.Rory seemed to have a hard enough time with the reminder of the man who’d taken Adam from her.

But did he?

As much as I refused to admit it earlier, I’ve had my own doubts regarding Hayes’ involvement in Adam’s death, even if that doubt has only recently surfaced because of Esme’s dreams.

I’ve told myself repeatedly what she saw in her dreams wasn’t real.That Hayes Barlow targeted Adam because he lost his sponsorships.That Charles Thacker, a known anti-monarchist, tried to kill Esme because of everything she represented.

That these two events are completely unrelated.

But if Hayes Barlow is responsible, why didn’t he exhibit a single sign he was lying?

I’ve been through hundreds of hours of training on how to keep a poker face in the most intense types of interrogations.Hayes Barlow has no military background, let alone any special ops experience.

Yet there wasn’t a single twitch of his facial features.Not a single swipe of his tongue along his lips.Not a single umm or like.The entire time, he maintained unwavering eye contact, begging me to listen to him.To believe him.To help him.

But even if I do believe him, I can’t help him.

It’s bad enough I know he’s alive and haven’t turned him in.

I can’t do anything to jeopardize my future.Not when I’m so close to having what I’ve wanted for so long.

To finally having Esme.

I need to focus on clearing these final few hurdles, namely telling Rory I’m moving out and informing my father I’ll be retiring from the guard at the end of August.I can’t get distracted by a sob story told by a man I have no reason to believe or trust.

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