Page 91 of Lethal King

“I know. But that only makes it all so much worse.” Rubbing the backside of his hand against the broadside of his scarred cheek, Drago takes a deep, raspy breath.

“So, live with it. And stop trying to drag us back into your miserable life.”

“That’s not an option,” Drago sighs. “I can’t rest until I’ve made it up to you. To your brothers. To our family.”

“We were never a family,” I spit. “And you proved that time and time again by choosing yourself over any of us.”

“I was foolish.”

“You still are foolish. And you haven’t learned a thing. I should kill you right now for trying to marry me off. Last time you made that mistake, I almost did. Now, I’m regretting that show of restraint.”

“This time is different from all the others,” Drago tries to explain. “This time, I wasn’t being selfish. I’m trying to look out for you, Roz. I’m trying to—”

Before he can finish, I’ve darted across the room and landed an open palm against his emaciated cheek.

The force of my slap sends his thin neck snapping aside, and for a split second, I almost worry that I’ve decapitated the bony bastard.

But then he spits blood onto the carpet and straightens himself back out, and any concern I’d had for him evaporates against my indignation.

“Who the hell do you think you’re trying to fool?” I bombard him, already dizzy from the effort. “You literally just told me how you needed Leander’s help for some weird twisted fantasy you have about Krol. What does that have to do with me? I’m not a little girl anymore, Drago. You haven’t saved me from anything in a very long time. I’m not under your spell anymore. Do you think you can trick me just because you look different? Because you look weaker? How could any of this shit be beneficial to me, huh? Fucking tell me.”

Grabbing his jaw, Drago tries to click it back into place.

“I’ll tell you,” he mumbles, the flame in his eyes calming as he looks past me. “But, first, I need one last favor from you.”

“No. Fuck you.”

Dropping his shoulders, Drago seems to finally accept that I’m not his little pawn anymore.

It only took him eleven years.

Still, he doesn’t give up.

“It’s nothing serious,” he gently explains. “But I don’t want Leander to hear what I say next.”

That’s when I realize he’s searching the room for listening devices.

I know I shouldn’t fall for his games, but I can’t help the frustrated curiosity bubbling up inside of me.

“Where’s my phone?” I snarl.

“In the bedside drawer, I believe,” Drago gestures.

Still wobbly on my feet, I turn around to fetch my phone. Sure enough, it’s in the bedside drawer. To my surprise, it’s been turned off, almost like someone decided to respect my privacy.

The nuclear-powered scrambler, on the other hand, is still running at full steam—probably because no one knew how to turn it off.

Even though I can practically feel the radiation leaking from its pores, I decide to keep it on for a little bit longer. I’m in no shape to face off against Rian right now. And I’m sure he’s desperately trying to reach me.

He’d better be.

Turning my phone on, I find a homemade scanner app. It only takes a single click to send a soft red light pulsing out from the camera slot. I paint the walls with its crimson spectrum.

When I’m done, the results pop up on my screen.

“We’re in the clear,” I huff, unimpressed.

“Good,” Drago nods, a hint of strength returning to his withered voice. “Then I can tell you the truth.”