Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“I can’t. I can’t let you go.” His voice has gone rough. Like sandpaper. Like something being torn. “I don’t want you to.”
Why?
Why does he keep saying that when we both know that’s not true?
“Y-you obviously can when you...” My voice falters at the last moment, and I realize that I can’t even bear to repeat his words out loud. It hurts that much. “Y-You s-said...you...”
“I lied.”
The words just hang there. In the dim air. Between us.
“I wanted to keep you safe.” His fingers seem to involuntarily tighten, biting into my arms. “I never told you, but the other kings and I...we knew Abigail’s killer wasn’t just an otherworlder. He was one of the others—”
I start shaking my head.
“I’ve told you about their kind. Remember?“
I don’t want to hear this.
“The others...are sent to other worlds to cause chaos. They steal. Kill. Destroy. Whatever would cause the greatest pain. And that’s why—”
“Please stop,” I choke out.
“I had to throw you away—”
“I said stop!”
I don’t mean to cry out. But a sob catches in my throat and the words tear out of me before I can stop them, ragged and raw and completely humiliating. The sound echoes off the stone walls, bouncing back at me like an accusation.
He freezes. His whole body goes taut.
“I don’t know if you’re just saying this because you feel guilty,” I manage, “but it’s fine.”
“It’s not.”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m not.”
“I think you’re just feeling guilty, and I’m telling you there’s no need. When...when I go back to my world—”
“You’ll marry the other man?”
My eyes go wide. How did he—
“I read your book in Hewhay.”
“Y-You—” Fire bursts in my cheeks as the most embarrassing thoughts flood my mind. Does that mean he knows about how I used to fantasize about dating someone else’s boyfriend, never mind if it’s fictional? And that I even have my own, um, title picked out if I were to be a Greek goddess myself? Oh, when I think about all the things he could read in my book—
“That’s so not cool,” I blurt out. “That’s like reading someone else’s diary—”
“It can’t be your diary if you didn’t write it.”
He has a point, but...even so.
“It’s still not cool!” I know it’s the silliest thing to say, but I think...I think I’ve finally reached my breaking point, and I just...
“In fact, YOU’RE NOT COOL either!”
I just lose it.
“It w-wasn’t cool, t-the way you t-threw me out—”
“I know.”
“And said I w-was unfit—”
“Let me explain.”
I shake my head. “Just...just go back to your o-original b-bride—”
“You’re the only bride that I want.”
I shake my head even more furiously. “I will never—”
“Just give me a chance to explain,” he grates out. “I didn’t want you hurt, okay? And so I made a mistake in wanting to keep you safe. I made you leave and it was the biggest mistake of my life.” His grip tightens. “I love you, Bailey—”
“Stop.” My voice cracks right down the middle. “Just stop.”
“I will always love you.”
“STOP!”
I shove him. Both hands against his chest, pushing with everything I have, which isn’t much but apparently it’s enough because—
He drops to his knees.
Just like that. The Mafia King of the South who commands armies and makes grown men tremble. On his knees on the cold stone floor, the dust of centuries settling on his perfectly tailored suit.
“I love you.” He looks up at me, and his face is open in a way I’ve never seen before. No walls. No masks. Just him. “Forgive me, my love. Give me another chance.” His voice drops. “Please.”
Please.
Kings don’t say please.
My mouth opens—
“This is not what I expected.”
But I lose the chance to tell him that I finally believe him, and that I love him, too—
Because Amos is here, but he’s not alone.
Oh no.
He’s silhouetted at the far end of the passage, backlit by the light spilling in from whatever door he came through. Abigail is in his grip, wedding dress torn at the shoulder, and her face white with terror at having a gun pressed to her temple.
No no no.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Keeping her alive is the reason why I forced myself to come here. But I still failed. And Abigail is still in danger losing her life.
“Now, Your Majesty...”
Should have we expected this? Should we have remembered that things can change, every time we jump worlds and timelines?
Amos suddenly tosses something towards us, and my stomach twists itself in knots when metal cuffs clatter across the stone before landing near my feet. “Cuff him. Or I kill all of you.”
My hands shake as I kneel beside my king on the close floor, and they shake even more when I try closing the metal around his wrists.
“It’s okay, Bailey.”
His voice is low and calm, and it helps steady my fingers even though a part of me is still reeling. How can this be happening? How?