“Fuck! Raven, the girl!” A violent crash of a metal tray hits the floor. Instruments scatter across the concrete, but I barely register it. My attention remains fixed on Cameron.
“Everyone called her a queen,” he says, and my brow furrows.
“Who the fuck are you talking about?” A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“She hated that.”
“Who hated that?” His eyes lock onto mine, and for the first time since entering this room, I get the distinct feeling that he’s no longer talking around the truth. The fucking Royal and their goddamn oaths.
“Because queens inherit, and kings take.” The monitor behind me skips and shrieks.
“Raven!” Billy’s urgent voice cuts through the room, but I ignore him. Not because I don’t care about the woman. Because after years of chasing ghosts and bodies, it’s almost like this so-called butcher is about to give me something fucking real.
“Who are you protecting?” I demand, my voice leaving no room for defiance. His smile fades, as if finally realizing who calls the fucking shots here.
“You still think this is about a person.” The answer twists something in my gut. Not a person. Then what? A system. An idea. A machine. Something bigger than the people feeding it? The thought makes my skin crawl. “People are the weakest part of any structure,” Cameron continues. Behind me, drawers slam open again as Billy frantically searches for something. I should probably turn around. But I don’t. Because every instinct I have is screaming that whatever this cunt is saying matters. That he’s standing on the edge of a truth we’ve spent years trying to reach. The machine behind me screams again, longer this time.
“Raven!”
“Everyone thinks power belongs to the person holding the gun.” I push the barrel harder into his forehead because damn right it does. His bloody smile returns and all I want to do is end him right fucking now for all this bullshit. “It belongs to the person who convinces someone else to pull the trigger.” Awareness crawls up my spine, settling at the base of my skull.
“Just tell me what I want to know.”
“Careful, Gravedigger.” The use of my nickname makes my stomach tighten. So he does know who I am. How much else does he know? “This is bigger than us.” The room suddenly feels claustrophobic. The walls seem closer, the air heavier, like the entire structure is pressing down on us.
“Queens inherit,” he says quietly. “Queens are handed kingdoms built by other people.” The phrase replays through my mind.Queens inherit. Kings take.Over and over, like a fucking drumbeat.
“And what happens when someone decides neither deserves the throne?” Silence settles between us. The desperate rustle of movement around the room disappears.
“Everyone expects war.” My grip tightens.
“That’s the point.” His bloodied face turns toward me.
“Men always expect war. Armies. Violence. Bloodshed.” His gaze drifts briefly toward theentrance before returning back to mine. “And while they’re busy looking for enemies in front of them, they miss everything happening behind them.” A drop of blood falls from his jaw.
“You know what the problem with kings is?”
“I don’t really give a fuck. Get to the point.” His tongue drags across the inside of his cheek.
Thinking.
Choosing.
Like the bastard is deciding which final secret to leave behind.
“Everyone watches the crown. The heirs. But nobody watches the spare.”
The spare.
Everything inside me freezes. The gun suddenly feels weightless in my hand. The room around me starts to blur. He’s not talking about Ezekiel King. No, that doesn’t make sense. Ezekiel dedicated his entire life to this cause. Bled for it. Killed for it. Sold his fucking soul for it. To Charles fucking Jensen. The founder and reason behind all of this fucked up shit.The king.
The heir.
The spare.
Seraphine.
The name slams into my head so hard my grip loosens on Cameron’s scrubs. Every death. Every missing piece. Every answer that led me on a longtrail to fucking nowhere. My stomach drops, because suddenly they do. He won’t tell me where she is, but the hunch I had years ago that she had assumed a new persona may have been right. I’ve been looking for the wrong person. Wrong name. Wrong face. Seraphine is someone else now, and this prick made it fucking happen.
