Page 103 of The Prince of Broken Crowns

“We’ll see.” I pause at the corner then peek around, relieved to see no one lurking in the shadows. “I have a feeling our ride might be gone by the time we get out.”

He’s standing so close to me that I can feel his body heat kissing my skin. “I’ll call another driver if that happens.”

“Always the problem solver,” I tease, throwing him a grin over my shoulder.

He smiles back, but it’s faint, and his eyes briefly descend to my lips. It’s like the third time he’s looked, as if he’s contemplating kissing me. Part of me wants to tell him we can’t cross that line so I can put an end to the impending torment of heartache that I’m sure will follow what I know will be a hot as hell kiss. The other part of me wants to say fuck it and deal with the aftermath.

Is pain really worth a soul-connecting moment? I don’t know. I’ve lived my life not following that rule, and I’m starting to question my decision.

“Come on,” I tell him, tugging on his hand. “Let’s go scope the place out.”

His boots scuff against the gravel as he slightly stumbles but quickly recovers. Then we creep like weirdos past a few curtain-closed windows until we reach mine. The curtain is shut, but I can tell the lights are off, either in the entire house or the bedroom door is shut.

“Be super quiet,” I whisper, letting go of his hand so I can carefully slide the window open.

“It isn’t locked?” River whispers back, his wide-eyed gaze almost laughable.

“It doesn’t lock,” I tell him as I inch the window open further.

“Maddy, how in the …?” He shakes his head, stunned. “This isn’t safe.”

“Well, I don’t live here anymore,” I reply quietly as I get the window open all the way. “And no one crept through it while I was living here.” Granted, I sometimes used to push furniture in front of it to ensure I stayed safe, especially when many parties were going on at the place.

I put my hands on the windowsill and hoist myself inside, swinging my legs over and ducking underneath the curtain. Relief washes over me as I note that my bedroom door is shut, but no light is coming through underneath it. Between that and the soundlessness of the house, my bet is my mother is out. That’s not a total surprise—she’s rarely home.

As I straighten, I move out of the way as River climbs inside. Once he’s in, I close the window, wincing as a sliver gets lodged into my thumb.

“Dammit,” I whisper as I close the curtain and darkness encases us.

“What’s wrong?” River sounds close, but it’s too dark for me to tell.

“I got a sliver in my finger. It’s no biggie. I’ll pull it out when we get out of here.” I start toward the door, squinting against the darkness so I can make out the outline of the furniture. “I’m going to make sure my mother isn’t sleeping in her room. Hold on.” Sucking in a breath, I open the door and tiptoe down the hallway to her room.

The door is open, and the curtains at her window are open enough to let in the streetlights from outside, showing that her bed is empty, unmade, and covered with a collection of alcohol bottles.

I also check the living room to check that she’s not passed out on the sofa. Once I’m convinced the coast is clear, I return to my room, close and lock the door, and flip on the flashlight on my phone.

River squints against the light, but after blinking a few times, he takes in my messy bedroom.

“It isn’t always this messy,” I feel the need to explain as I make my way over to the dresser where the necklace is stashed. “The night I was in jail, my mom ransacked my room and took all my money I had hidden. And this is what she left me.” I gesture at the floor while avoiding eye contact with him.

For the first time in a long time, I feel ashamed of who I am. To distract myself from that, I focus on getting the dresser drawer open. Like a dumbass, I use my thumb that has the sliver in it.

I hiss then pull back. “Damn sliver,” I mumble.

I set the flashlight down on the dress so I can use my good hand to rummage around. The air is quiet between River and me. I want to peek over and see what he’s doing, but I have no desire to look at the appalled expression that has to be on his face.

“It should be in here behind the drawer,” I mumble as I attempt to wiggle the drawer out with one hand. “Hold on.”

He moves beside me and brushes strands of my hair off my shoulder. When my gaze darts to him, he surprisingly doesn’t look appalled.

“Let me,” he offers.

I step back and gesture at him to go ahead. He easily gets the drawer out, and there it is, lying in behind a stack of papers. How my mother didn’t find it during her ransack is beyond me. Or perhaps she didn’t believe it had any value and left it behind.

River picks it up. He has the flashlight on his phone on, shining the light on the crown-shaped pendant with a black stone centerpiece.

“It’s pretty scratched up,” I state the obvious as I inch closer to him to get a better look. “That probably means it’s fake, right?”

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