Ruthless Heir: Chapter 12
Roz is waiting for me in the foyer when I get downstairs.
“How the hell did you get inside?” I ask. This place is supposed to be an invisible fortress.
“You know me,” she shrugs. “Always getting into places I don’t belong.”
“Well, you belong here,” I assure her. “So make yourself at home. But stay on guard. Bianca may look like a porcelain doll, but she can put up a hell of a fight.”Nôvel(D)rama.Org's content.
“Do you know that from experience?” Roz smiles, lifting her brow at me.
“You know I don’t hurt women.”
“Was that not yelling I heard upstairs just a second ago?”
“That was playful banter,” I assure her.
“Banter? At a time like this? I thought you were more serious about this plan than that.”
“Serious enough to save my energy,” I roll my eyes. “Save your taunts for Bianca. She likes that stuff.”
Brushing by Roz, I jimmy open one of the foyer’s closet doors. The inside is empty, but when I gently punch a wooden panel, it pops out, revealing my gun collection.
“You probably shouldn’t take any of your own weapons,” Roz wisely points out. “Those things you got there are too sophisticated for the poor street rat you’re supposed to be.”
“I’m not going back to the Byrnes unarmed,” I grumble, chest thumping as the reality of what I’m about to do really settles in. “And I am a street rat—there’s no need to pretend—or do you not remember how we grew up?”
“Sure, we spent most of our childhood in the slums,” Roz shrugs. “But I hardly noticed. My mind was always on the future. And I knew I had a golden ticket in my pocket. A tried-and-true prince. The next Krol Cieni.”
“We’re still a long way from that,” I huff, closing the hidden wooden panel without taking a weapon. “You’re right about the weapon though, I’ll have to grab one from some street goon on my way over to the Byrne compound.”
“Good luck,” Roz nods, her tone suddenly becoming less playful.
“Drago better not be overstating Rian Kilpatrick’s importance,” I grumble in response.
“Sometimes I wonder why we put so much blind faith into that man,” Roz sighs.
“Because he saved us, Roz,” I remind her. “He gave us hope when we had none. He made us killers when we were soft.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. But that doesn’t mean he always is. Just remember that. Now, where’s the girl?”
“Upstairs,” I say. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I snap it in half with my bare hands. It can’t come with me. Nothing can. In fact, I should probably get into a fight before I find Rian, just to make it look like I’ve had a rough fucking week.
“I can’t wait to meet her,” Roz smirks.
“Be careful,” I warn. “I left her bedroom door open. So, she could be around any corner…”
That makes her laugh. “Doesn’t look like there are many corners here. Who the hell designed this place?”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s your home until I return.”
“If only I had known about it before. You know so I could have gotten used to it…”
“Everyone has their secrets.”
“And their safe places…”
Before I open the door, I make sure to look deep into Roz’s eyes. “Do you really want those to potentially be the last words you ever say to me?”
“No,” she shakes her head. “Come here. I love you.”
We embrace.
“I love you too.”
“… But fuck, I’m glad I don’t have to marry you anymore,” she laughs when we pull back from each other. “Thank God for this Bianca Byrne.”
“That marriage was never really going to happen,” I dismiss her.
“Drago was pushing hard for it,” she playfully reminds me.
“Drago doesn’t always get what he wants,” I grumble.
But he better get Rian Kilpatrick. Because if he doesn’t, it will probably be because I was roped up the second I walked back into the Byrne compound.
“Yet we still follow him around,” Roz shrugs.
“Once I’m king, he’ll have to do what I say. What we say.”
“I can’t wait,” Roz nods. “Now go out there and do your duty, little prince. And try not to get killed.”
“Same to you,” I wink, swallowing my nerves.
“I think I can handle a tiny princess.”
“That’s what I thought too,” I smirk. Shaking my leg in her direction, I remind Roz about the shrapnel wound still healing just behind my knee. This hasn’t been an easy week by any means—and Bianca’s stubbornness hasn’t exactly helped, not that I don’t like her better for it.
Fuck.
I may never see her again…
The sudden thought rips through me as Roz studies my leg.
“I didn’t see a limp on you. Does it still hurt?”
“No,” I respond, shaking my head in an attempt to rid myself of the sudden onslaught of dread. “But hopefully I’ll be able to use it as proof that I was shot by those fuckers Drago sent to ambush us; that I wasn’t working with them.”
“That ambush,” Roz grumbles. “I’m still so fucking sorry about how it went down.”
“Don’t be sorry, be ready. Stall as long as you can on making more of those tracking devices. And look after Bianca while I’m gone. Feed her. Make sure she gets some rest, and don’t tell too many embarrassing stories about me, alright?”
“No promises about the embarrassing stories, but roger on the rest of that.”
An unexpected sigh escapes my chest in response.
Bianca.
Those crystal blue eyes. Fuck. To think, I was once willing to do anything to rid myself of them. Now, I regret that I didn’t even think to stop and take one last long look.
I guess that means I can’t allow myself to die. Not yet. Not until I can barge back in here and fuck my princess bloody again.
“Here goes nothing,” I nod, tossing the shattered remnants of my phone away.
“See you on the other side,” Roz nods back.
“See you on the other side.”