Page 97 of Broken Crown

Panic races through me, urging me into action.I rip off the blanket and leap out of the car in less than a second, my gun drawn.I barge inside Esme’s apartment, quickly scanning the room for any threats.When my eyes land on Archie’s body in the corner, the life long gone from his eyes, my heart drops to the pit of my stomach, throat tightening.

I look up at the ceiling and say a silent prayer that he didn’t suffer, then continue on light feet, stopping in my tracks when I hear a low groan from a few feet away.I tighten my grip on my gun, gaze constantly sweeping through the dimly lit room as I cautiously move closer, unsure if it’s friend or foe.

As a low light reveals a pair of shoes peeking out from behind the couch, I struggle to push down the knot of emotion that bubbles up inside of me.I know those shoes.They’re the same ones my father likes to wear when on duty.

I hurry toward him, bile rising in my throat at all the blood drenching his shirt.For a split second, guilt freezes me in place, a voice in my head telling me I caused my brother’s death.And now, I could very well be responsible for my father’s, too.

But I refuse to think about that.Instead, my training kicks in, and I focus on what’s most important.

And right now, that’s helping my dad.

“Was it Kingsley?”I ask as I kneel beside him, careful to avoid the blood staining the carpet.When I rip his shirt open to see what I’m dealing with, I try to find some solace in the fact that he was hit closer to his shoulder.

But that still doesn’t mean he’ll survive.He needs help, and fast.

“Yes, but don’t worry about me.”He swats me away, stubborn as always.“Find her.I’ll call this in.Let them know we have a potential hostage situation.”He manages to prop himself up against the back of the couch, wincing from the pain.When I don’t immediately move, he pins me with a glare, pulling his phone from his pocket.“Go,” he orders.“I’m not your priority.She is.”

I hate leaving him when it’s obvious he’s in bad shape.But he’s right.From the beginning of my career in the royal guard, I was trained that when it’s between saving a team member or guaranteeing a royal’s safety, we have no choice but to choose the latter.

Even if that means choosing the royal family over your own father.

Which is exactly what I have to do.

Swallowing down the ache in my chest, I pull myself to my full height and move toward the corridor, remaining alert for any sound.

“Creed?”my father whispers just before I disappear.

I glance back at him.

“You were never a disappointment.”A peaceful smile crosses his expression.“I’m sorry I made you think you were.”

“I’m sorry, too.”I hold his gaze for a protracted beat, then force myself to look away, tiptoeing down the corridor toward the sound of drawers opening and papers rustling.

As I grow closer to Esme’s office, the double doors cracked open a few inches, I’m mindful of my surroundings, remaining as silent as possible.When I reach the end of the hallway, I flatten myself against the wall and peek through the crack, relieved when I don’t find any sign of Esme.

Especially since Kane Kingsley is inside.

But if she’s not here, where is she?Did she escape?

I should leave, continue my search.But I struggle to walk away when I have a clear shot of the man who killed my brother.

And countless other people.

If I don’t take this shot now, I risk him getting away, evading capture for another ten years.

Killing more people.

Eventually killing Esme.

That’s all it takes for me to justify my decision.

Slowly lifting my weapon, I carefully push the door open a little more to get a better view of him as he ransacks Esme’s bookshelf, flipping through each book before tossing it, as if searching for something.

But as I do so, the hinges on the door creak.

He whirls around, grabbing his weapon off the shelf and pointing it in my direction in one swift move.

I don’t hesitate to fire, my shot hitting him in the hand.The gun clatters to the floor, along with chunks of flesh and bone.Groaning, he clutches the remains of his hand, squeezing it in an effort to staunch the bleeding.

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