Page 65 of His Queen

I aim, let out a steady breath, waiting as my finger hovers on the trigger. Just a little closer. Just a tiny bit, and I’ll have a clear shot.

The figure stops, and my instincts are saying he knows I’m here, forcing me to aim fast, finger on the trigger, but at the last second, he ducks before I can fire off my shot. Knowing better than to waste another chance on such an opening, I leap out of hiding, coming down hard on him, grabbing his neck, pressing my gun against his chest, and I pull the trigger.

He shakes and stumbles backward, his eyes wide with terror. A loud thud echoes through the night as his body hits the ground, and for a brief second, relief brushes along the back of my neck, knowing that one of the four men who came here with the intention of hurting my wife is now burning in hell. If this were any other time, I’d take a few seconds to appreciate the daunting silence of this fucker’s death, then shudder to think what he would have done to her had he found her before I killed him.

I glance around me, ensuring he’s alone, and then I turn my back on his corpse. I don’t bother to cover him up. Let it be a warning to the next asshole who finds him.

Renewed determination fills me as I take off, the darkness now my friend as every step I take is a step closer to finding her. I’m more than ready for whatever comes my way because my desperation to save her is far greater than my fear of what still lies ahead.

CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE

MIRABELLA

The first thingI feel as I drift awake is the chill wrapped around my legs like a snake squeezing the life from my limbs. A sharp pain slices through my skull, my mouth dry, and my tongue sticky. Everything hurts, from my fingers to my toes, my body heavy and weak.

I fist my hand and hear the crunch of leaves sounding like bones breaking in my palm, and my eyes snap open, staring across an open field, the grass tips gleaming under the moonlight.

There’s a second that I’m showered with relief because I’m no longer in that room, which means there’s new hope. Maybe I have a better chance of being saved now that I’m no longer locked up. But new surroundings mean new threats, and uncertainty turns to fear.

A gust of wind sweeps up, and I’m aware of the nightdress I’m wearing as the fabric blows up my legs. Tears prick my eyes when I realize I’m no longer naked. I’m covered, and it gives me an odd sense of protection, as if clothing could make me less vulnerable, instilling a new sense of strength in me.

But as I look around, that strength wanes, replaced by a growing sense of dread. There’s something unsettling about this place. Maybe it’s the way the wind seems to whisper warnings in my ear or how the moonlight casts haunting shadows across the field. There’s something disturbing, as if the peace is drifting through the air with silent deception.

I try to stand up but fail miserably; my legs are weighed down by what feels like lead weights fastened around them. Instead, I crawl toward an old tree nearby for support and manage to get myself on my feet, leaning against it while I catch my breath.

I squint into the darkness as my eyes take their time to adjust. Every shadow hints at movement. There’s no way to know whether it’s real or not. But when a figure emerges from the trees and into the open field, it’s clear it’s not just a shadow.

My heart races as I try to make out who it is, and I clench my fists as my palms begin to sweat. Is it one of Nunzio’s men? Is it Nunzio? Or is it someone coming to rescue me?

But as the person steps out onto the open field, I realize that it’s neither. I don’t recognize the man in front of me, dressed in a pair of Kalahari cargo pants and a matching shirt with buttons straining as it hugs his chest tight. His hair is closely cropped to his scalp, his eyes so blue the moon dances off its color. For a moment, I’m reminded of Nicoli’s sapphire irises I live to drown in. But the life in this man’s eyes is not the same. It’s dark and menacing, an air of danger surrounding him.

He approaches me with a confident swagger, his steps echoing in the silence of the night. My body tenses, and I back up more against the tree.

“Who are you?” My voice is weak and shaky, but I’ve become used to sounding that way.

He stops a few feet away from me, his lips curling into a smirk as his gaze rakes over my body as if he’s assessing what I’m worth. My nightdress no longer makes me feel less vulnerable, as it did a few moments ago. Instead, under his scrutiny, I feel like I’m not wearing anything at all.

“Nunzio has outdone himself this time,” the man says, his French accent thick and smooth like liquid poison. “You are…exquisite.”

His deep, resonant voice has the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. My heart thuds faster in my chest, this man’s presence making my skin prickle with unease. Please, God, I won’t survive another monster. I won’t.

“Please, just let me go,” I plead, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

He chuckles darkly, taking a step closer to me, and I press my back hard against the tree bark. “I can’t do that,” he answers simply.

“I’m begging you. I just want to go home.”

My throat tightens, fear coursing through me like electric shockwaves. This man is not here to save me. His eyes hold the same evil desire as Nunzio’s—the same hunger and cruelty. This man is here to hurt me in ways that make me shiver with fear. My instincts are fiery hot as they go into overdrive, my gaze scanning the area, my ears hyperaware of every noise, and my breathing accelerates while I try to find an escape.

I stoop and grasp a thick branch half-buried under dead leaves and dirt, the texture rough against my palms as I tighten my grip.

The man starts to laugh with amusement. “Nunzio said you’re a fighter.” Then he pulls out his knife, spinning and flipping it, showcasing his skill with unnerving ease. Moonlight dances off the blade, and I tense, settling my feet deeper into the ground. But I know deep down that I don’t stand a chance. I’m weak, scared, with nothing but a branch to defend myself.

“Come here, little one,” he taunts before launching at me with speed that seems almost unnatural.

I let out a primal scream as I swing, the branch whistling through the air. But he just stands there unperturbed, his mouth twisted in a sinister smirk, and chuckles darkly.

There’s no chance I’ll be able to fight him and win. So I do the next best thing. I run. With my heart pounding in my chest, I use every ounce of strength left within me to bolt in the opposite direction. Adrenaline propels me forward, but he’s faster than I am, his heavy footsteps closing in as I sprint as fast as I can, my legs burning with the effort.

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