Page 4 of Shameless Royalty

“Bullshite,” he snaps, sitting up straighter. “Brothers fight. Brothers screw up. But they come back to each other. You and Nikolai are no different.”

“He hasn’t come back,” I say bitterly. “Not to me.”

“Because he knows you’re too bloody angry to listen,” he replies. “You’re sittin’ there stewin’ in your own rage, and he’sgivin’ you space. But he’ll come, Connor. He will. You just need to let him.”

“Why should I?” My voice cracks slightly, and I hate myself for it. “Why should I let him? I would’ve taken a bullet for him, Da, and he decided to stab me in the back.”

He shakes his head and sighs. “You’re too much like me, lad. You’re holdin’ on to grudges like they’ll keep you warm at night. But they won’t. They’ll just burn ya from the inside out,” he says, then he stands, walking around the desk until he’s standing directly in front of me, then he places a hand on my shoulder.

“I know you feel betrayed,” he says, his voice softer now. “And you have every right to be angry. But holdin’ onto that anger will only eat you alive. Nikolai knows he fucked up. He knows he has to earn your trust back. Give him the chance to do it.”

I shake my head, staring at the floor. “It’s not that easy.”

“It never is,” he replies. “But this isn’t just about you, Connor. It’s about this family. Nikolai is part of that, whether you like it or not.”

The room falls silent, the crackle of the fire the only sound between us. I take a deep breath, trying to push down the storm inside me. He’s right—he always is, damn him. But that doesn’t make it any easier.

“What if he screws up again?” I ask quietly. “What if he hurts her again?”

He squeezes my shoulder. “Then you’ll be there to stop him. To protect her. Just like you’ve always done.”

I nod slowly even though I don’t like it. I don’t like any of it. But I can’t argue with him—not when I know he’s doing what he thinks is best for Cat.

“I’ll try,” I say finally, my voice rough. “But I can’t promise I’ll forgive him.”

He gives me a small, knowing smile. “Forgiveness takes time, lad. Start with understandin’. The rest will come.”

Finally, I nod, though it feels more like surrender than agreement. “Alright.”

He smiles, satisfied. “Good. Now, go clear your head. You’ll need it for what’s coming.”

I stand, the anger still simmering just below the surface, but I don’t argue. As I head for the door, his voice stops me.

“Connor.” I pause and look back at him.

“You’re a good brother,” he says. “Don’t forget that.”

The words stay with me as I leave the room, echoing in the quiet halls. But they don’t feel like enough to stop the fire burning in my chest. Not yet.

Chapter 3

Malachi

ThefirstthingIdo after Connor locks me in this bloody room is search every corner. It’s not like I have a better plan, but sitting on the bed waiting for something to happen doesn’t exactly sit well with me.

I start with the wardrobe, flinging open the doors. Clothes. Neatly folded shirts, trousers, even shoes without laces on the bottom shelf. Not exactly a weapon stash. I dig through the drawers beneath—same story. Socks, underwear. Nothing sharp, nothing heavy enough to do damage.

“Brilliant,” I mutter, slamming it shut.

The ensuite is next. The mirror over the sink reflects back a face that’s not mine—bloodshot eyes, red hair sticking out in every direction, shadows under my eyes. I don’t even look like a bloody prisoner; I look like someone who’s already given up.

There are toiletries—soap, toothpaste, and a razor, but not the kind with blades I could use. It’s one of those plastic onesyou’d find in a hotel, the kind you couldn’t even cut paper with. Useless.

Back in the bedroom, I check the bookshelf. I run my fingers over the spines—hardcovers mostly, a few paperbacks thrown in. Some of the titles look interesting, but without my glasses, they might as well be blank.

I grab one anyway, flipping through it in the hopes something will stand out. It doesn’t. The letters blur together almost immediately, and after a few minutes, my head starts to ache.

I throw the book back on the shelf and sit on the bed, rubbing my temples. This place is like a sick joke. A comfortable prison that comes with all the necessities, even some luxuries, but no way out. No escape.

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