Page 45 of To Claim A King
The crowd tittered in response, but did not interrupt her.Mi Reinacommanded any space with her presence, pulling the oxygen from the room like a mesmerizing fire. I watched her crackle in the flames, my veins humming with the madness of uncertainty, my heart thrumming with love for the woman who was the very heart of my existence.
“There are quite a few rumors circulating about me these days.” A devious smirk that could have been stolen from Lauchlan’s lips took over her face. “I’ve been called a shark in the boardroom and a queen in the bedroom, but this has to be a first. Mutilation Mistress.” She said the words slowly, as if feeling them glide across her tongue. “It’s a pretty title, but not one I’ve earned or can claim to own.”
Her lies were flawless fables, spoken with such authority I was inclined to believe them myself.
“I’ve remained silent these last few weeks as I’ve gathered my thoughts. You see, there is a story here, but it’s not the one you’ve been told. But in order for you to know the truth, I had to ask a dear friend of mine to take a risk. One, I am thankful, he was willing to make.”
Her gaze briefly landed on mine in the eaves, the subtle dip of her chin preparing me to enter. As swiftly as it had come, her attention returned to the captive audience of perfectly procured puppets.
“You’ve been lied to, Carlisle. I am not the Mutilation Mistress you are looking for. But before I reveal the real culprit, I’d like to reintroduce you to... Aaron Rodriguez.”
A collective intake of breath rippled through the crowd as I walked through the red velvet curtains and across the stage to stand by her side. The people were less veiled atthis angle—a grainy, gray landscape of scavengers in professional clothing, eager to profit off our ailments.
I kissed her cheek decorously, then turned to face them. As my eyes readjusted to the light, I watched a hulking shadow shift at the rear of the horde, the gait as familiar as my own. Even in the darkness, I would recognize Kellan’s form anywhere.
Had his guilt compelled him to show up? Perhaps he had received a tip-off about his family and had come to offer additional protection. A surprising sense of relief trickled through my limbs at his appearance. His reasoning was irrelevant in this moment. I was grateful he was here, if only as a shadow of solidarity.
“Good afternoon.” My address was solemn, as was needed for the rest of the tale. I stood at my full height in my expensive suit and shining shoes, feeling the most like myself in many months. Standing on this side of the podium, no longer hiding in sweatpants, filled me with a jolt of the power I was used to holding within my grasp. I owned it, infusing every vein with its intensity as I offered a tiny morsel of it to the throng before me.
“Several months ago, I was reported missing, suspected of passing in a car crash over Cascade Falls. This is correct. What was unknown before now is that I was intentionally run off the road by Marco Alvarez’s men.”
Another gasp, this one less awestruck and more trepidation at the accusation.
“Back in the fall, it came to my attention that Marco Alvarez was running an adjacent operation to his tech companies. Human trafficking, but proof was elusive. As a long-term business partner on the microchip project, I took it upon myself to investigate. In that time, I was threatened directly by Marco himself. It was fuel to continue. I eventually discovered an underground network of depravity and reported it to an FBI agent known to me, who agreed to investigate further.”
The man I suspected to be Kellan retreated further into the darkened corner. Leveraging his credentials had been a critical element of this plan, though we hadn’t explored a new version of the story with the change in his status. He had not been around to discuss it this morning, so the executive decision had been mine to make. Should he have an issue with it, he could come back to us and address it as our equal. My tolerance for bowing to the leadership of retreating men had considerably diminished.
“Through our work, we discovered an interstate network of trafficking that involved women and children. This is already on record, and Alvarez’s trial is pending. Sandra Orton, the reported missing woman of late, had also known about Marco’s underground network through her work rehabilitating children, and had taken it upon herself to pursue her own version of justice. She is the Mutilation Mistress you are so desperate to claim.”
The vigilant neutrality in my tone had veered to distaste. I captured the sneer making its way across my face and pocketed it before it could sabotage my contribution.
“When she was caught and questioned, she confessed she’d tapped into her husband’s ex-military contacts to work for her, extorting money from the highest profile offenders to pay for their salaries. We foolishly did not report her, and she went missing the next day.”
I did not like this spin on the story. Sandra Orton’s memory deserved to be tarnished as ancient copper, but Lauchlan insisted we needed another woman who would fit the profile to be our substitute. “Make it easy for them,” he’d argued. “They need a scapegoat to wrap this up with a bow.”Mi Reinaagreed. Still, the words were sour on my tongue. The only solace I could muster in the moment was knowing her carcass still lay in the mountains, torn apart by birds and beasts.
“I am unaware of her whereabouts.” I stared stoically into the mute crowd. Their silence was deafening, as theyhung on every word of the carefully woven fabrication. They would draw their own conclusions, which would protectMi Reinaeven further.
“Marco knew I was going to bury him in his own evidence. I was driving to Cascade Falls for a weekend away with my lover, whom you know as my business partner”—I reached for Hillary’s hand and interlaced our fingers in demonstration, the baseness of the word not nearly enough to describe what she meant to me—“and when I failed to show up, she used the breadth of her resources to find me. How fortunate for my life, as I was barely alive at the bottom of the falls, my car buried under several tons of rushing water.”
The communal inhale of the crowd this time was indignant, laced with ire and disbelief. I was a dead man walking, yet here I was, accusing my false perpetrator with proof of my life.
“It took time to heal, and I remained in hiding to protect my company and Hillary Lane. We continued to gather evidence, which contributed to Marco’s current charges. I am now speaking out against this man, as it is clear he has no intention of stopping his crimes, even now that he is caught.”
It was time to wrap our present for the FBI, and discharge the final blow to Alvarez’s empire.
“Marco had a personal vendetta against Hillary Lane.” I nodded to the woman at my side, who maintained her silence as my hand remained in her grasp. “We have recordings admitting attempted stock tampering, defamation, and veiled threats, all of which have been forwarded on to the FBI. It is our belief that Marco intentionally framed Hillary for Sandra Orton’s actions, to once again devalue her shares and destroy her companies. It is our belief that Marco hired the criminals who fire-bombed her condo last week, leaving her homeless.”
I stared into the camera, channeling the man my father molded me into—the callous, calculating mafia leader with the ruthless energy of an untouchable king. “This man’s obsession will not stop until he has ruined her, and it ends now.”
All oxygen vacated the room as my captive audience held onto their breath, awaiting their next directives as pawns on our chessboard.
My queen stepped back into the light, gently nudging me outside of the microphone’s range. I let go of her hand, resuming my post as the dark knight at her back. My gaze landed on the spot I’d last seen mycompañero, but his shadowed form was absent.
I was not used to the uneasy prickles of melancholy in my heart. Few in my life meant much to me to be sad for, yet I could not find a more appropriate word. Would he choose to make himself known, or had he appeared in a moment of weakness, only to vanish again? I could not bear Hillary’s tears if he continued to tease us with his presence, only to pull away like a vagrant. We would not be game pieces for his guilty conscience to play with. I would not allow it.
“I have taken care of this city, and its people,”Mi Reinadeclared, not wasting words. “My companies pay more taxes than my counterparts, and I employ more people in this state than the government. This is my town. You are my neighbors. I won’t accept these false accusations any longer.”
A shimmer of blond hair fell down her back as she turned to look directly into the camera, exuding the power and grace of a royal empress. Pride swelled in my chest, and love filled my heart at the sight of her on her throne, commanding my respect and demanding my devotion.
