Page 8 of The Royal in Room 3

“Pretty sure you can.”

“Princes do not cry in front of police officers.”

“Soren.”

“What?”

“My shift ended, remember? You’re not in front of a police officer right now. You’re in front of me, Aaron, and I’m telling you that you can cry.”

I pressed the heel of my hand to my mouth, but the first sob got out anyway. Then the next. Then all of them, ugly and hot and humiliating, breaking through me faster than I could swallow them down. I bent forward, one arm clamped around my stomach, and tried to make myself small.

It did not work.

There was just too much.

Too much shame. Too much loss. Too much terror. Too many people who had smiled while taking pieces of me away. My title. My country. My money. My belongings. My memories. My name, even, because here it made people laugh, stare, or ask if I had missed a dose of medication.

Aaron did not try to touch me or comfort me, which I was grateful for. The last thing I needed to do was crawl into his lap simply because he was the first person to have shown me kindness since moving to this godforsaken country.

“We’ll file a report,” he said. “We’ll check security cameras, talk to the landlord and your neighbors to see if anyone saw her leave with your suitcases.”

I wiped my face with the heel of my hand. “What am I supposed to do now? I can’t stay here. This was Daphne’s apartment, and she allowed me to stay in the guest room.”

“What about family?” he asked.

I shook my head. “They disowned me.”

“That’s too bad. I know of a safe place I can take you for the night.”

I was shaking my head before he finished. “No.”

“Soren—”

“No.” I stood so fast my vision swam. “I am done. Do you understand? Done. No more helpful strangers. No more friendly smiles. No more people who know a place, or have a friend, or can get me settled, or just need me to trust them for one night. Everyone wants something. Everyone takes something. I have nothing left, so I’m sorry, but whatever this is, whatever arrangement you think you can make, I decline.”

Aaron took one step closer, then stopped. “You have every reason to feel the way you do. You’ve had a hell of a night, and from what I can tell, it’s been that way for a while. But I have been nothing but honest with you since I sat down across from you at the station. Haven’t I?”

I swallowed.

“You showed me your messages,” he continued. “I spoke to the restaurant manager, and I must tell you, he was a very prejudiced person who wanted to press charges simply because of, well, your race, but I got the charges dropped. I brought you here because you said this was where you were staying. I walked you up because I had a feeling those friends of yours were up to no good, and I wanted to know you were safe.”

My throat tightened again.

“I’m not asking you to trust the whole world,” he said. “I’m asking you to trust that I am not Daphne nor anyone else who has wronged you. Let me help you.”

That wasn’t fair. He was so Daddy-coded that he knew exactly what to say. How was this fair when he was a walking, talking cheat sheet to get to a boy’s soft spot?

“Where are you taking me?” I asked.

“To a place called Halo House.”

I blinked at him. The name sounded pretty, at least. “Halo House?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“A safe home for members of the LGBTQ plus community who need stability.”