Page 60 of Broken Queen
“I was the closest shot you had at getting what you wanted. You’re never going to fix things now.” I aimed my gun to the side. “Say goodbye to those dreams you had. Balance. Getting even. All that power you wanted just to watch it go up in flames?” I laughed hard. “You never even had a match, baby. What makes you think it’ll burn?”
“Shut the fuck up!” she screamed. She ran toward me, knocking into my arms. I shot the gun, the bullet striking one of the wooden boxes. Zira latched onto me, wrapping her legs around me like she was climbing a tree, then she grabbed my head as if she wanted to rip it off. I laughed in her face, making sure she could feel every pleasurable breath.
“You know why I’m not going to kill you?” I asked. “Because you don’t mean shit. Your daddy doesn’t care if you live or die. He never believed in you. No one will ever believe in you.”
Suddenly, she stopped, glaring into my eyes like she saw something there that hadn’t been visible before. She pulled back, shifting her eyes between mine.
“It’s easy to hate on someone else,” she said calmly, “as long as you’re not the fuck up. Isn’t that right, Hazard?”
“The fuck are you talking about?” I asked.
“You want to blame my father. Me. Anyone else. Except you can’t face the hard facts, can you?”
“The hard facts about what?” I shouted, pulling her off of me.
She landed on her feet, then smeared a hand across her face, the black streaks painting her like a warrior. “The only reason your sister accepted the arranged marriage with the Syndicate in the first place was because you had gotten her into financial debt.”
“So?”
“You’re the one who fucked up. You’re the reason she searched for my father’s secret society. That’s right,” she laughed. “Gabby searched for us. She knew the Marked Blooms Syndicate was the only way to save you.”
“If you say another word, I’m going to hurt you,” I whispered harshly.
Zira grinned, tilting her head to the side. “My father didn’t kill your sister, Hazard,” she said. “You did.”
I pulled the hammer back and put the gun to her temple. Zira blinked, a slight smile on her lips. Was it because she wasn’t afraid of death, or was it because she knew I would never kill her?
She infuriated me.
I threw the gun to the side of the room, letting it skid across the floor. She slowly clapped for me, throwing in a jagged laugh for show. The fucking bitch. I hated her. Hated every part of her brain. Her need to hurt others. Her desire for power. Her selfishness. But I hated her because I saw so much of myself in her. And yet, somehow, I hated her because her reasons seemed far more important than mine.
She wanted revenge, but the result of fulfilling that goal would far outweigh anything I could do for Gabby. Gabby was already dead. Zira was here, still trying to change things, even if she knew it might not work.
And maybe Zira was right. Maybe it was all my fault.
CHAPTER 17
Hazard
My personal phone vibrated like a drill on that paper-thin desk. A goddamn woodpecker alarm clock. I wiped the drool from the side of my mouth and glanced at the screen. An unknown number, the seventh time this person had called today. Who knows how many times the same number had called in the last two days?
The Syndicate phone was under my bed. It could have had something to do with that, and a tingle of hope flickered at the back of my throat. I hadn’t heard from Zira since I left that tomb. Maybe it was her.
Fuck it, I thought.
“Yeah,” I answered.
“The Masquerade is tonight. You’re coming, correct?” a man said. His voice was throaty, instantly sending unease down my spine. Gore Bloom. Daddy fucking Bloom. The man that I should’ve killed the first time I walked onto his property. The digital clock hummed on the nightstand; it was three in the afternoon. In the last two days, I had survived on beef jerky and whiskey, only leaving the motel once to pick up more guns. I had this feeling I would need them, and somehow, that purchase felt like it would give me some answers. Was I right to say those things to Zira, or was I wrong?
I had lied to her. I did believe in Zira. She didn’t need me to accomplish anything. She never had.
And damn it, I wanted to help her.
She was right. If I hadn’t been such an impulsive son of a bitch, Gabby would still be in Oakmont, pushing drinks and lap dances, cleaning motel rooms, and answering phone calls at a little desk.
I hated myself for saying that shit to Zira. She wasn’t like her daddy. She might have been a sadistic, power-hungry queen, but she was still better than him.
“Son?” Bloom asked, interrupting my thoughts.
