Page 54 of His Queen

It’s his goddamn head, bloodless and with eyes still open.

“Jesus,” Alexius blurts. “That’s how Nunzio knows.”

“The priest had to have run his mouth,” I say, not the least squeamish at the sight.

“What’s that?” Maximo asks, pointing to an envelope lodged behind the priest’s severed head.

I pull it out and stand as I open it, revealing a black card inside, with white text.

You are hereby invited to partake in the exhilarating sport of hunting. Our games are known for its diverse range of prey available, providing everyone with ample opportunities to showcase their skills and enjoy the thrill of the chase. But we are raising the stakes with only one trophy rewarded to the hunter who catches her first.

One prey. Five hunters.

Who will find her first?

You will receive a text with more details one hour before the event starts.

Every bone in my chest cracks, splintering straight through my heart. For a second, I don’t breathe. It hurts too much. It’s sheer agony existing with the thoughts stemming from a void I feel in the deepest parts of my soul. The ache is bone-deep, the desperation clawing up from a hole inside me. The one person I vowed to protect, the woman I’ve loved all my life, the girl whose ribbon tied me to her forever—she’s gone, and with her absence, my failure echoes with a deafening reality. Resounding and absolute.

I crumple the piece of paper in my hand, imagining it’s Nunzio’s head in my palm, his skull fracturing between my fingers.

Caelian grabs the paper, and I watch as he reads it, realization dawning on his expression. I already know what he’s thinking, what’s going through his mind. But when he says it out loud, it drags me down to the deepest parts of hell like an anchor tied to my neck.

“Mirabella…she’s the prey.”

CHAPTERSEVENTEEN

MIRABELLA

Red.It’s a beautiful color. The whole world is bathed in red. We all have an obsession with it. It’s a part of us. It runs through us. It’s the color of life. The color of blood.

My blood.

It’s my blood I’m staring at; it reminds me that I’m still alive. There’s something soothing about the shade as I watch it stain the fibers of the mattress, flowing from a grotesque cut at the top of my thigh. I don’t feel the pain—the burn, the sting—I don’t feel anything. It’s just…cold.

“There’s always a solution for a dry pussy, right, birdie?” They laugh. It’s more like evil cackling, Nunzio and his guard—the man who has held me down three times. Three times he helped Nunzio rape me. Three times he stood by watching while I screamed until my throat bled. Three times, I fought with everything I had in me to make him stop. Three times I failed.

Nunzio grabs my chin and forces my face upward, but I refuse to look the devil in his eyes. “I bet you liked it as much as I did, didn’t you? Having your blood coat my cock so it’s nice and slick when I sink into this tight little body of yours.”

A tear slowly rolls down my cheek; it’s a piece of my soul escaping purgatory that’s infected my insides.

“Aaaw, my sweet birdie,” he coos before licking at the tear, his serpent tongue scraping my flesh. “It’s okay,” he says, brushing his thumb along my bottom lip. “Just make sure your pussy is all wet and ready for me the next time I come in here. Then I won’t need to cut you.” He turns my face to the side, his gaze burning my cheek. “She looks like him, doesn’t she? Her brother.”

“Which one?”

“God, you’re an idiot. You know that?”

Nunzio lets go of me, and I slide down the wall until I’m on my side, my face against the rough fabric of the mattress.

“Jesus, I think I finally broke her,” I hear him say. “That’s too bad. She had so much potential. I was sure she’d hold out much longer than this.” He kicks at my feet and then spits on my face. “Fucking disappointment. Come on, let’s go,” he says to his guard. “And don’t look so miserable. Maybe next time I’ll give you a turn with her. We just have to make sure she has enough fight left in her for the hunting.”

“Fuck you,” I whisper, and he stills, turning to look at me, a big, disgusting smirk stretching along his face.

“There she is,” he taunts. “Looks like I didn’t break you after all. You going to continue fighting me, birdie?”

I lick my dry, chapped lips. “Until my last breath.”

“That’s what I want to hear.” His face is lit with dark delight, his eyes beaming with renewed excitement. “On second thought,” he slams his hand in his guard’s chest, “you won’t get a chance with her next time. You can have my birdie once she finally breaks. But while she fights—” he makes a big show by lapping his tongue all along his mouth “—she’s mine…and just mine.”

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