Page 13 of Shameless Royalty

“Thanks for the food,” I mutter, just to change the subject.

“Don’t mention it,” he says, pushing off the desk. “I’ll leave you to it.”

He heads for the door, his movements slower than usual, like every step takes more effort than it should. The door clicks shut behind him, and I’m left staring at the empty space he left behind.

Four days, and he comes back like this. Beaten, bruised, and somehow more complicated than he was before.

And I hate how much I notice.

Chapter 8

Connor

ThedoortoMalachi’sroom clicks shut behind me, and I grit my teeth. Why the fuck did I tell him so much?

I exhale a breath and pain lances through my ribs as I do. I wince, pressing a hand against my side. Fuck, my whole body aches—a dull, constant throb that reminds me of every punch, every blade, every goddamn second of the last three days.

I take a moment to steady myself, leaning against the wall. The hallway is quiet, the house still, but the silence doesn’t feel peaceful. It feels heavy and smothering.

Dragging my hand away from my ribs, I push off the wall and make my way down the hall. I don’t have to think about where I’m going. My feet know the way.

Cat’s room is at the end of the corridor. The door is cracked open, the faint light spilling out into the hallway. I stop outside, hesitating for a moment before pushing it open gently.

She’s curled up on the bed, her back to the door, her shoulders shaking. My chest tightens at the sight of her, the little muffled hiccups of her sobs hitting me like a knife to my heart.

“Cat,” I say softly, stepping inside.

Her head snaps up at the sound of my voice, her tear-streaked face lighting up for a split second before she scrambles off the bed and rushes to me.

“CC!” she cries out the nickname that used to annoy me to no end, throwing her arms around me.

I barely have time to catch her as she throws herself into my arms. The force of it knocks the wind out of me, my ribs screaming in protest, but I don’t care. I wrap my arms around her and sink to the floor with her, holding her tight as she starts to sob.

“I’m here, darlin’,” I murmur, my voice rough. “I’ve got you.”

Her tears soak through my shirt, her small frame trembling as she clings to me. I run a hand over her hair, smoothing it gently, my other arm anchored around her.

She’s my baby sister. The one who used to follow me around with wide eyes and a toothy grin, who always insisted I sit through her endless piano recitals, and who gave me hell when I nicked the last slice of cake at family dinners.

And now, here she is, crumpled in my arms, and I don’t know how to fix it.

Three nights ago, I walked into that estate as a man on a mission. I knew what I was there to do—find Cat and Marina, and get them the hell out. But I didn’t expect to find my little sister like that.

Battered. Cut. Bruised in ways I didn’t want to imagine. Her clothes were torn, her eyes hollow. She didn’t even cry when she saw me, not at first. She just looked at me like she wasn’t sure I was real. And then she ran to me, throwing herself into myarms like she was drowning and I was the only thing keeping her afloat.

That was when the rage hit.

I don’t remember much after that. Just flashes—red, hot, and blinding. The sound of my own shouting voice. The feel of my fists connecting with flesh. The blood on my hands. When it was over, the room was silent, the men who’d touched her nothing but lifeless bodies at my feet.

Even after it was over, after Nikolai tried to pull me back, Cat didn’t let go of me. She didn’t even look at him. She just buried her face in my chest, trembling, whispering over and over,“Please don’t let them take me again.”

“Shh,” I whisper now, rocking her gently. “You’re safe, darlin’. I’m here.”

Her sobs slow, her breathing uneven as she presses her face into my neck. “I-I keep seeing them,” she whispers. “I keep feeling their hands on me.”

I close my eyes, my jaw tightening. “They’ll never touch you again. Not while I’m breathin’.”

She sniffles, pulling back just enough to look at me. Her green eyes flecked with blue—so much like Ma’s—are rimmed red, her cheeks blotchy and wet. “You promise?”

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