Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
LOCH
Irony.
I think she’s Fate’s twin.
That day on the beach, when I beat the shit out of that boy who bullied Alena, she ran away crying.
If she hadn’t, I would’ve broken the rules then. I would’ve spoken to her. Held her. Told her how beautiful she was. But I never got the chance, so I wrote her a letter that night. I had so many feelings for her, I had to get them out.
And I kept it. That’s Fate.
The irony?
I need the letter now, to prove to Alena our love isn’t a lie. It was written on the page years ago. I just didn’t call it that. I was too young to know better.
I do now.
It’s crumpled in my hand, along with a bouquet of coneflowers for her.
For three days, I’ve sat on the front porch of the resort condo. The resort where we’re supposed to be married tomorrow. The condo where Alena’s in bed, crying, but she won’t see me.
She spoke to my mom. I know, in time, Alena will forgive her.
Vale hasn’t left Alena’s side; I’m sure her forgiveness came swiftly for her best friend, as it should.
She’ll even forgive Nash. He’s flawed, but he’s her father, and he loves her. He won’t leave the condo next door, trying to win Vale back at the same time.
But me?
I meant it when I told Alena I’d always come home to her. Even if it’s to sit in the doghouse outside her front door.
It swings open. The entourage of my brothers, minus Nash, ambles out. They’ve been inside, pleading my case to Vale.
And to Alena, I hope.
“Remember.” Sire slaps my shoulder. “Love is patient. Love is kind.”
“No,” I grit out. “Love is making my ass numb, sitting on her front porch, and it’s fine. Just tell me how she is.”
“Like shit, I imagine,” Jace answers. “But Vale won’t let us talk to her. She’s a fucking lioness guarding Alena’s bedroom door.”
“Can you blame a queen?” Grant decrees, bounding down the wooden stairs beside me. “We’re still strangers to her. This must’ve been like a fucking firehose of intel coming at Alena, and it’ll take her months to swallow it all.”
“Months?” My stomach knots.
“However long it takes.” Nick squats before me. “Keep fighting for her. I know you know how.”
Nick was there. He’s the only one who knows I would’ve killed John Thurmond, Alena’s bully, on the beach that day if he hadn’t pulled me off him.
Only Nick was strong enough to do it, dragging me out of there before the cops arrived.
I didn’t go back for years, for fear I’d be recognized and arrested.
Rumor is, I blinded John in one eye.
My only regret? I didn’t crack his skull open along with it. It ain’t easy to do on sand.
The next time I went to Folly Beach was that day, years later, when I watched Alena rescue a boy.
Again. Fate and Irony. They really want us together.
So do I.
“Come on.” Axel’s the last to exit the condo. “Let’s go to dinner and give our queens some space.”
I glance up, shocked. “You just called Alena a queen when you’ve always called her our princess.”
“Because she is your queen,” Axel assures. “So you won’t marry her tomorrow, but you will one day. And not because we order you to do it.” He points to the flowers, clutched in my grasp. “Because we can’t fucking stop you.”
He pats my back, like he’s finally softening. We all know it’s because Axel’s found his true queen. The hot redhead in the purple dress who works for him. He snuck her into Vale’s initiation.
Nick stands, offering me his hand. “Come on, man. You need to eat.”
“I’m not leaving.”
Sire glances at the darkening summer sky. “A storm’s coming.”
“So.” I shrug.
“So, you’re going to sit all night in the pouring rain for her?” Grant grins, impressed.
“Did it last night and will tomorrow night. However long it takes.”
I don’t give a fuck about a storm. We get them all the time in the park. I’m used to it. What I never want to get used to is spending a night without Alena. Three have been enough.
“Then here, you stubborn fuck.” Jace reaches into his pocket, throwing me a crumbled protein bar. “And good luck.”
I catch it as they aim for Grant’s Tahoe parked out front.
“Hey.” Axel turns back, circling his finger, reminding me, “We got security crawling everywhere, but keep your eye out for that Turner fucker.”
I nod and settle into my post, tucking my letter into my back pocket.
Hating every bite of the peanut butter-flavored cardboard Jace calls food, I eat it.
Watching a vicious squall blow my way, it matches the one I feel inside, but I don’t flinch. Rain stings my face as night falls. But I don’t move until I get an eerie feeling.
It keeps tapping my right shoulder.
Though I turn and see nothing, I rise, pulling my Glock out of my back holster, holding my weapon low, searching through the drenching night storm. Lightning cracks the sky, thunder booming above, wind gusts as I turn right and follow my instincts.
On the side of the condo, feet from the one beside it, I spot a bent window screen lying in the mud, and a guard’s dead body with blood weeping from a slice across his neck.
Glancing up to the window. It’s gaping open.
Fuck!
Alena’s window!
A large silhouette appears at the bottom of the grassy alley between the condos, making my thundering heart stop. But I’d know the looming shape, holding a gun, anywhere.
It’s Nash.
Fuck, he sensed that shit is sideways too.
Silently, I signal to the window. He signals his path up the back stairs. We’ll corner whoever the fuck broke in.
Securing my gun in its holster, I jump, grabbing the windowsill, and pull myself up. I’m too fucking big and barely make it through before tumbling to the bedroom floor.
Greeted by a muffled scream, instinct draws my weapon. There’s no goddamn lights. The storm knocked the power out.
I blink, making my eyes adjust to the darkness, to the horror.
“Alena!”
Her wrists are tied to the bed, her mouth gagged, her pajama top ripped open. Goddamn, I’m killing someone and pissing in a skull.
I aim my gun toward the open bedroom door, covering her as I hear a woman’s voice. It’s Vale’s, shouting, “Fore!”
What the fuck?
Vale’s a former junior golf pro but I guess she’s cracking a skull like a queen now.
Then, I hear a muffled struggle before a gunshot.
“Vale!” Alena screams into her gag. Terrified.
I’m concerned, too, but I don’t drop my weapon, protecting Alena until I hear Nash shout from the other room, “Seven. It’s clear. Is she okay?”
I turn back, seeing the storm of terror, rage, and relief in Alena’s eyes. They’re staring back at me. The real me, Lyov Kholodov, the seventh king with a gun in my hand, her body almost assaulted, and the fucked-up life I’ve been trying to protect her from.
And no.
My Babygirl is not okay.