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The real question is, who died?
My eyes narrow at a discarded custard cream wrapper stashed down the side of Callen’s armchair. The fucker has been eating my stash.
Alaric moves through to the kitchen and flicks through a stack of papers on the side. It’s mainly bills, but a thick, black envelope nestles among the pile. “What do we have here?” He tears it open and reads it. His face contorts in anger. “We’re leaving.”
Back inside the car, Stephanie is busy blowing her nails to dry them.
He thrusts the envelope into her hands. “Look at this.”
Her lip curls as she reads aloud, “An invitation to the Collingsbrook Ball for Sebastian Montgomery.” She launches the envelope across the car. “Fuck!”
My heart sinks. They’ve worked it out. It was bound to happen, eventually.
“He’s the final Duke,” Alaric declares. “But that doesn’t change anything.”
“If she’s alive, she’s perfectly placed to kill him,” Stephanie agrees. “But we need to find her.”
He grins. “It looks like we’re crashing a party.”
In the meantime, all I can do is hope that the Dukes are alive and that they’ve worked out Ivy’s secret.
CHAPTER29
CALLEN
Through the grimy window, I watch the embers smoulder in the fireplace. The cottage is still. Everyone is sleeping, just how I like it. I loved this time of day as a kid. The time when monsters came alive. Maybe a part of me knew I’d grow up to join them. Darkness never scared me, either. Nor spiders, heights, or clowns. Fear is pointless. You have to lean into it. Embrace it. Become the one they fear instead.
There are a few hours until sunrise. I take care when opening the door, pushing it slowly to keep the hinges quiet. My muscles ache from exertion. Moving a body single-handedly isn’t easy, but I’ve dumped it somewhere no one will find it. Adrenaline is still racing through my veins, and my stomach grumbles. If Seb and Freddie weren’t so eager to get their dicks wet with a murderer’s cunt, maybe they’d have lent a hand.
I head to the kitchen, ready to raid whatever’s in the cupboard. If I’m lucky, there might be a can of beans that hasn’t expired. But, when I turn the corner, I see her.
Her ghostly white face is illuminated by the moonlight slipping through the windowpanes. She’s shrouded in a blanket that’s wrapped around her shoulders and draped down her back like a cape. Her hand lurches for a kitchen knife. She points it in my direction. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
There she is. The real princess. She’s not the innocent woman they think she is, but a bloodthirsty queen.
“What a greeting.” I look at the blade in bemusement. “Where’s Seb and Freddie?”
“Upstairs,” she snaps. “Sleeping.”
I sniff the air. It reeks of sex. I can smell it on her.
“Did they fuck you so hard they can’t see who you truly are?” I tease, noticing her messy bedhead.
I step closer. She won’t stab me. Not here. It would blow her cover in an instant. I keep walking until the tip of the knife presses into the centre of my chest.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she hisses.
But I do, and she knows it.
“Are you supposed to fuck your targets?” I question. “Or do they employ whores as well as killers?”
She twists the knife, leaving a small hole in the fabric of my t-shirt. “You know nothing about me or the club.”
“What’re you going to do, princess? I know you’re one of them.” I study her reaction, and her blazing eyes fill with hatred. “Are you going to kill me, too?”
“I should.”
“But you won’t,” I say. I slide a hidden knife out from under my sleeve and hold it to her throat. We’re in a standoff. “You don’t have to hide from me. I saw the darkness in you from the moment we met. I can help you.”
