Page 119 of Tragic Empire
“Father, don’t,” Killian says, voice weak. He’s been drugged too. He sounds so exhausted, like he could pass out at any moment. That can’t be good for his heart.
Voice hardly audible, I whisper, “Anything.”
“Anything?” he drawls, desire lacing the word.
“Don’t you touch her, you sick fuck,” Cassio growls, but I tune him out. I have to.
“A kiss?” I try, hoping to God that I’m right about his yearning for me.
Like he can’t believe his ears, he nods. “Go on then.”
Lifting up on my toes, using all my might to keep my legs from shaking, I close my eyes and lean forward. Bron swoops down to my height, done pretending to be some kind of virtuous avenging guardian as he seals our lips together.
The kiss burns against my lips, and a deep groan vibrates from Bron’s throat. I knew it. He didn’t want to admit it, probably ashamed of it, but he wants me in the same way his son did. And that want sealed all of our fates.
He deepens the kiss, and I retreat into my mind, trying to stay calm. My heart feels like its breaking in my chest, wondering what Cassio must feel, having to watch this.
Our lips finally part, and my once stepfather tips his head back, eyes shut with bliss. “Bloody perfect,” he mutters. “I knew it would be. I told you, you weren’t meant for them.”
Exhaling, I nod. “You did.”
I’m waiting for him to pounce, hoping he won’t subject me to another kiss. But he doesn’t move, which means now is the time for action.
No more stalling, Ana.
Fingers reaching back, I toy with the ends of my hair, putting on a flirty show for the guards who continue to stand around.
“Bron?” I whisper, purring his name against his chest. My lashes flutter as I sneak a peek at his face.
“Yes, my girl?” he mutters, eyes filled with adoration.
“You shouldn’t have touched my husband,” I inform him, voice shifting into cold indifference. His brows furrow, and before he can truly process his confusion, my hidden hairpin knife is gliding straight through the skin of his throat.
I smile, watching as blood spills from his neck in a liquid line, pouring out of his body faster than I thought possible.
He drops his gun to reach for his wound, but no amount of covering it, or added pressure to the area will save him. The front of his suit is already soaked with the evidence of his impending death.
ChapterThirty-Seven
Cassio
Bron falls to his knees, clutching his gaping throat. Ana breathes out, her shoulders dropping in relief. As proud of her as I am for tricking us all and taking that son of a bitch out, it’s too early to celebrate.
All of Bron’s guards shift, their guns swinging from Colton and me to her, uncertain whether they should shoot. My heart slams against my ribs, not trusting these men for a single moment.
“What the fuck do we do?”
“Stand… down,” Killian tries to instruct.
He’s the Monarch’s heir, but these men aren’t Kings. They’re thugs that Bron hired externally. He didn’t have a single leak amongst his ranks, probably knowing that his son is more favored than he is. Killian has The Kings’ respect in a way that could never inspire treachery, at least from what I’ve seen.
“You ruined everything,” one of the men growls, finger twitching over his trigger.
“Ana!” Her name is a warning cry that breaks from my throat seconds before the all too familiar bang of a gunshot sounds.
My heart stalls in my chest. I blink, staring at the man who just yelled at her—now on the floor, blood pooling beneath his head. Confusion and relief crash over me at once, but the gunfire hasn’t stopped.
More rounds go off, and the room collapses into chaos.
