Page 128 of Shameless Royalty

I should be grateful. I should fucking thank him. But all I can do is sit there on the floor, fists clenched, shaking from the aftershocks of my own breakdown.

Malachi chose to leave. He left me.

I grind my teeth, staring at the floor, my mind a fucking mess. I don’t know how to fix this, I don’t know if I can, but I do know one thing.

I’m going to Willow Bridge.

Chapter 51

Connor

Thesteadyhumofthe jet does nothing to soothe my nerves. My body is still thrumming with the adrenaline of the last five months—of the blood spilled, of the long nights with little sleep, of watching my brothers fight beside me, proving over and over again why they’re the deadliest bastards I know.

And yet, all of it—every fucking thing we just survived—feels like nothing compared to what I’m about to face.

I pace the length of the cabin, my jaw clenching, fists flexing at my sides. I’m too wired to sit, too on edge to do anything but move.

“Christ, Connor, sit the fuck down,” Nikolai mutters from where he’s sprawled across a leather seat, his head tilted back, a whiskey glass dangling between his fingers. His knuckles are still bruised, a healed cut slicing across his cheekbone, but he looks relaxed. Because of course, he does. The bastard thrives in chaos.

I scowl at him, but I don’t stop. My thoughts are too loud, my emotions too raw. The mission was a success—the Volkovs are gone, their empire wiped off the map, and their allies left pissing themselves at the warning we carved into their bones.

We did our job, we sent our message. But the second I walked into Malachi’s empty room, all that faded into the background. The bloodshed, the victories, the near-deaths—none of it means a fucking thing when I know I’ve lost him.

I run a hand through my hair, tugging at the strands as I grit my teeth. “I’m fucked,” I mutter under my breath.

Across from me, Mihai raises a brow, arms crossed over his chest. “You’re just figuring that out now?”

Konstantin, sitting beside him, snorts and shakes his head. “This is painful to watch.” His Greek accent is heavier when he’s exhausted, his voice a low rasp after the shit we’ve been through.

I snap my glare toward him, but he just smirks, unbothered. The bastard earned his place in this group. He proved himself when he took out Sergei Volkov with his own hands, barely blinking as he wiped the blood off his blade. He’s one of us now, through and through.

Still, I don’t have it in me to joke. Not about this.

“He’s worse than Mihai after Maddy disappeared for a weekend with Chiara on that girls’ trip thing without telling him,” Giovanni adds, stretching out his sore limbs and rolling his shoulders with a wince. His suit jacket is slung over the seat next to him.

Mihai barely glances up. “That’s a fucking insult,” he mutters. “At least I had the decency to get drunk off my ass instead of pacing like a lunatic.”

“Temptin’,” I bite out, still moving, dragging my fingers over my jaw. “But I don’t have time to get sloshed. I’ve got shite to fix.”

“What exactly do you plan on doing when you get to Willow Bridge?” Konstantin asks. “You’ve been spiraling since we left Dublin, but I don’t think you actually have a plan.”

I glare at him again, but fuck, he’s right. I don’t have a plan. I just know I need to see Malachi. I need to fix this. I finally stop pacing and let out a harsh breath before sinking into the chair across from them, my elbows on my knees, head in my hands.

“How the fuck do I fix this?” The words scrape out of me, frustration thick in my voice. I don’t even know who I’m asking. Maybe all of them. Maybe none of them.

Nikolai sighs, and I hear him scratching his fingers over his jaw. “You really want advice from us?”

I lift my head to glare at him. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have fuckin’ asked.”

Giovanni huffs out a tired laugh. “Look, we’re all great at a lot of things. Murder? Fantastic. Torture? Unmatched. Taking out entire families and their allies? Easy.”

“But relationships?” He shakes his head. “Not exactly our strong suit. I had to eat Chiara out in a library—”

“Fuck, G,” Nikolai grumbles and throws his head back at the mention of his stepsister.

“—and fucking chase her down to make her mine.”

Mihai scoffs. “Speak for yourself.”

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