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SMASH.
I jump at the sound of something breaking. It comes from upstairs. I think of all my things scattered around the ballroom. If they’ve destroyed my shit, I’m going to fuck them up.
I’m tempted – oh so tempted – to creep upstairs and drive my knife into Alec’s kidneys while his back is turned. My fingers tighten on the blade, and I imagine the satisfaction of feeling it sink into his flesh. I make the motion of twisting it inside him, mincing his organs to mush. But I won’t leave Queen Boudica. I don’t know how many people are upstairs or what they intend to do to us, and I won’t put her in more danger. Right now, I need to get those bastards out of my house.
I crawl into the study, find the release for the panic room, and tuck us both inside. As the door swings shut behind me, I mash the buttons to bring up the CCTV. I’ve disabled several cameras to save money, but I still had five trained on different areas of the house. I flick through the feeds, and I see him – a figure in dark pants and a green hoodie climbing out an upstairs window.
He’s alone.
The figure leaps from the ledge. I suck in a breath, hoping he’ll break his leg on the flagstones. No such luck – he lands with remarkable grace in a soft garden bed, narrowly missing a towering cacti because the gods want to spit in my face today.
He’s on his feet in a flash, running for the wall, right where Eli stacked the lawn furniture. He bounces on one of the chairs, grabs the top of the wall, and vaults over like he’s in the fucking Olympics or some shit. He tucks his chin down, obscuring his face in the shadow of the sage-green hood, but as he sails across the wall I get a good look at his hoodie.
Only it’s not a hoodie.
It’s a Stonehurst Prep letterman jacket.
Alec LeMarque’s jacket.
I clutch Queen Boudica to my chest as I press the phone to my ear. It goes straight to voicemail. “I need you,” I whisper. “Alec LeMarque was in my house. Get Galen over here, now.”
Antony’s boys swarm the manor, searching from top to bottom in case Alec left an accomplice behind. On the first floor landing, they find a table upturned, the porcelain vase smashed across the tiles. That was the sound that startled me. My room – my old room – is also a mess, more of a mess than I’d left it after I found the diary. My porcelain dolls had been thrown against the walls until their heads shattered. But the ballroom and my new bedroom remain untouched, thank fuck.
They don’t find any intruders. We have no way of knowing what Alec might’ve seen.
I know this is bad, but it’s a background concern to me right now. I’m covered in sticky mess from Cleo’s stunt, my shirt stained with Queen Boudica’s blood. I pace across the kitchen while Antony’s doctor – the infamous Dr. Galen – lays Queen Boudica on the table and expertly stitches her wound. She stares up at him with those saucer eyes swimming in pain, her fur matted, her breathing labored.
The words flash across my vision. Words written in the blood of my best friend. GO AWAY GO AWAY GO AWAY GO AWAY GO AWAY.
My fist connects with the kitchen wall.
“Easy, tiger.” Antony doesn’t look up. He’s on his phone, no doubt rescheduling the practice session.
“He cut my cat,” I hiss. “I’m going to cut off his balls.”
“All done. She’s a tough girl.” Dr. Galen kisses the top of Queen Boudica’s head. She nuzzles in his arms, groggy from the drugs. “She’ll be tearing up the joint again in no time.”
“She’s going to be fine?”
“The wound looked nasty, but it was superficial. Her attacker managed to miss all her major organs. She’ll be groggy for a few days, and I’d keep her away from other cats.” He strokes her head, and I notice several rows of claw marks across his hand. “She’s much more accommodating than my usual patients.”
Considering Dr. Galen is usually digging bullets out of crooks or repairing nasty wounds for cage fighters, I take his word for it.
I take Queen Boudica from him. She stares up at me with wide, pain-soaked eyes, her claws digging into my shirt. I’m never, ever letting her out of my sight again.
Dr. Galen washes his hands in the sink and exits with a nod to Antony. My cousin leans against the cabinets and fixes me with that look of his, the one that says he’ll follow me into the fires of hell to fuck shit up with me, and he’ll laugh the whole way. “What are we dealing with here?”
“Alec LeMarque,” I growl. My fingers curl into claws. “He’s been gunning for revenge over his precious nose. That prick Eli must’ve told him how to get into the house – I found out from the diary that I used to sneak him in through there. Eli’s the only person who could possibly know about the maintenance shed – the paps haven’t been anywhere near that side of the house. He’s the only one I saw on the CCTV, but I don’t know what he’s seen or how much he knows.”
“Shit.” Antony cracks his knuckles. “Just say the word, Claws, and I’ll make sure he never speaks again.”
If he’d offered a month ago, I would have shut him down. I needed to deal with my own shit. Antony’s solutions tended to be more… permanent. But that’s before they invaded my space and fucked with my precious Queen Boudica.
This is war.
“I want them all to pay.” A slow grin spreads across my lips as I savor the anticipation of vengeance. “And Alec LeMarque gets a personal visit.”
Mackenzie
