Page 65 of Royal Deception
I reach for my neck, fingers fumbling against the cool metal of the eternity collar. The weight of it, the meaning of it—something I once cherished—now feels unbearable.
I grab at the nightstand, yanking open drawers, searching.Where is it, where is it?
The key is missing.
My chest tightens. A sob chokes out of me as I lunge for the bedroom door, wrapping the chain of the collar around the doorknob with shaking hands.
I brace my feet against the hardwood, grab the chain with both hands, and pull.
Nothing.
I grit my teeth, hot tears blurring my vision, and yank again with all my strength.
The collar snaps. Metal clatters against the floor as I stumble back, gasping, hands flying to my throat.
It’s gone.
The weight is gone.
But the ache inside me—the raw, gaping wound Rory left behind—that is still there.
A strangled sob rips from my chest, and I sink to my knees, pressing my forehead to the floor as the dam finally breaks.
And I cry. For everything I wanted. For everything I thought we could be.
For the part of me that still—stupidly—wants him anyway.
27
RORY
Islam the ballroom doors behind me, my heart still pounding from the last few minutes. The gala is a blur at this point—Callie’s speech, Clary retreating, and the goddamn briefcase.
Lucky’s already ahead of me, his eyes narrowing as he stares at the briefcase in his arms. He looks like he’s ready to rip it open, but I shake my head.
“Not here. Let’s get to the computers. I need to see what the hell’s going on.”
We make our way through the hotel’s back corridors, not a word exchanged. Everything feels like it’s slowing down, but my mind is racing faster than I can keep up with it. The briefcase, the damn note—it’s all pointing toward something far worse than I thought.
Lucky pulls open the door to the small office I’ve commandeered for this exact kind of emergency. As I sit at the desk, he hooks up the USB drive to the computer. I watch as the files load, my jaw clenching with every passing second. I need answers, fast.
I rip open the first set of documents, my eyes scanning each page quickly. The Russians, the goddamn Russians—they’vebeen making moves behind our backs. They’ve been quietly buying up shares of Veridex, little by little, until now, they’re just shy of being majority shareholders. The implication? They’ve been positioning themselves for a takeover, biding their time.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. This is bad, so much worse than I could have imagined.
I glance at Lucky, who’s leaning in, scrolling through the files on the USB stick. His eyes widen. “Rory,” he says, voice low. “It’s worse than just the shares. These videos… they’ve been monitoring the Brannagan hotels. Every inch of our operations.”
I feel the blood drain from my face as he pulls up the footage. On the screen, the images flicker to life—camera footage of our hotels, our employees. The Russians are working with Nexera, using their resources to infiltrate our operations. They’ve got eyes on every angle of our business, and we’ve been blind to it all this time.
My hand tightens around the edge of the desk, my pulse pounding in my ears. “These bastards,” I hiss under my breath. “They’ve been planning this for months.”
Lucky looks at me, his face grim. “And they’re not stopping. They’re getting closer, Rory.”
I lean back in the chair, running a hand through my hair. This is a nightmare we can’t wake up from.
“Get Kellan on the phone. We need to move fast,” I tell him. “And keep an eye on Callie. I don’t trust her for a second now. Not with this.”
Lucky doesn’t argue. He grabs his phone, already dialing, while I turn back to the computer screen, my mind churning with a thousand thoughts.
