If there’s anyone I can talk to without biased judgment, it’s my uncle and cousin. They’ll push the Crown bullshit aside for a minute and listen.
“Do you love the boy?” my uncle asks.
Love? That is a strong word. I never loved Sylvie, at least not in the way I should, let alone Rip.
I try to speak, but my brain lags. Why are we even talking about love? It took my father three years to utter such vulnerable, sappy words to my mom.
Seeing my apprehension, he rephrases it. “Do you care for Rip?”
Ah, something I can answer. “The thought of anyone laying a filthy finger on him makes me want to wring their neck so… you tell me.”
A low chuckle rumbles from Mateo. “How sweet.”
Those are the types of thoughts that run through my mind when it comes to that hot-headed fuck. Seeing them down there, shackled and abused with shouts and spit, only held back from being beaten because I ordered everyone not to, twisted something inside of me. It took everything not to call it all off. I wanted to tell everyone to fuck off and let Rip and Thomas go. I still do.
I should want to decapitate the men involved in the taking away of my fiancée—the reason I became such a pathetic shell of myself. Instead, I want to kill everyone else for expecting me to hurt Rip.
“When the rest of the Crowncrest finds out, they’ll expect me to kill them. Dad is so hellbent on me leading that I can’t not do something.”
“But that something isn’t killing them,” Mateo says.
“Anything but.”I’d rather kill myself.
“Then they don’t have to know,” Uncle Santiago states.
Mateo and I share a look. “What?”
“You said it yourself, you’re in the lead. You call the shots.” He pokes me in the chest for emphasis, sounding wise as ever. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the Redgraves… miraculously break free before you can handle them. Xavier and everyone may want you to retaliate even when they’re gone, but you know how bad a war would be for us, so that is not an option. You’re the boss.”
“And the rest of the Crown? They’ll expect me to go in headfirst anyway. They don’t hear the rational side of things.”
My uncle shrugs loosely. “If they want it so badly, then they can go retaliate. Let’s see how many of them are willing to put their lives on the line so directly.”
Dad may still technically be over me, but he’s given me full control. When people have questions, they come to me. I call the shots, so if I say we stand down, then we stand down. I needto be firm in my stance once Rip and Thomas “unexpectedly” escape.
I’ll have to lose Rip, but I was going to anyway. At least this way, he’ll make it out alive.
Holy fuck. Why haven’t I talked to my uncle before?
Mateo glances at his watch. “Guards change shifts in fifteen minutes.”
There’s a two-minute window when the guards switch shifts, giving them barely enough time to get past, vault the fence, and bolt. We’ll make it seem like they outsmarted us, and Mateo backing me up will make it more convincing.
My uncle’s mustache twitches as he smiles. “Go be the king of the Crown, Kingsley.”
How about the prince?
Mateo and I are off to the cellar, moving stealthily. We don’t want to cause trouble by bumping into anyone, but we have to act normally so nobody pays enough attention to where we’re going. Through the back door, past the garden, and behind the wine cellar, we head down the stairs of the dungeon. We tell the guard on duty we’re down for another interrogation, and he doesn’t blink an eye.
Stepping inside, the scent of mildew and the heavy darkness are fierce, like you’d expect in an illegal jail. We barely send anyone down to clean it, even though we only use it every few months. Believe it or not, kidnapping and tying down people is a real hassle to keep up with.
Faint mumbling echoes through the room as we go down the eerie hallway, but when the heavy door shuts behind us, the muttering ceases. I’m dreading what’s inside, my stomach turning as we get closer. I haven’t dared to come down here since Rip and Thomas were taken.
My heart aches when I lock eyes with Rip the moment he comes into view, his arms chained to the walls and legs to theground like a puppet. He’s still in the same shirt from two nights ago, now visibly soiled and smelling faintly of unwashed days, with deep, dark circles under his eyes that, exhausted. Thomas doesn’t look much better than his brother, though his eyes have a dead glint to them.
Rip slumps against the wall. “Finally came down to see me?”
Mateo brushes past me as he steps closer. This is his first time seeing the infamous Redgraves who conned us, and he’s checking them out.
