30. Kingsley #2
There’s a two-minute window when the guards switch shifts, giving them barely enough time to get past, vault the fence, and bolt. We’ll make it seem like they outsmarted us, and Mateo backing me up will make it more convincing.
My uncle’s mustache twitches as he smiles. “Go be the king of the Crown, Kingsley.”
How about the prince?
Mateo and I are off to the cellar, moving stealthily.
We don’t want to cause trouble by bumping into anyone, but we have to act normally so nobody pays enough attention to where we’re going.
Through the back door, past the garden, and behind the wine cellar, we head down the stairs of the dungeon.
We tell the guard on duty we’re down for another interrogation, and he doesn’t blink an eye.
Stepping inside, the scent of mildew and the heavy darkness are fierce, like you’d expect in an illegal jail. We barely send anyone down to clean it, even though we only use it every few months. Believe it or not, kidnapping and tying down people is a real hassle to keep up with.
Faint mumbling echoes through the room as we go down the eerie hallway, but when the heavy door shuts behind us, the muttering ceases. I’m dreading what’s inside, my stomach turning as we get closer. I haven’t dared to come down here since Rip and Thomas were taken.
My heart aches when I lock eyes with Rip the moment he comes into view, his arms chained to the walls and legs to the ground like a puppet.
He’s still in the same shirt from two nights ago, now visibly soiled and smelling faintly of unwashed days, with deep, dark circles under his eyes that, exhausted.
Thomas doesn’t look much better than his brother, though his eyes have a dead glint to them.
Rip slumps against the wall. “Finally came down to see me?”
Mateo brushes past me as he steps closer. This is his first time seeing the infamous Redgraves who conned us, and he’s checking them out.
Rip sizes him up, snarling. “Who the bloody hell is he?”
“Is that one Rip?” Mateo asks. I think he already knows the answer.
“Is it that obvious?”
“He’s staring at me like he wishes he could slit my throat with his mind, so yeah. You would like the unhinged ones.”
“I’m not unhinged, you twat,” he spits. Even tied up and barely functioning, he’s eager to start a fight. “Who are you?”
Mateo doesn’t bother responding to his hostility. We head toward them, carefully avoiding the dried blood on the ground. As we near, Rip and Thomas straighten up, ready to fight us with clenched fists, though it’s obvious they wouldn’t stand a chance.
I move to loosen the chains on Rip’s wrists, which are digging into his skin, turning it red and likely swollen. Great, another thing to add to my list of shit to do: figure out what dumbass put this on Rip so tight and demote them for it.
Rip relaxes in my grasp while I reach for the key in my back pocket. He still trusts me.
He looks between me and the lock. “You aren’t letting us go, are you?”
I lick my dry lips with a sharp nod.
“Are you sure this is the right decision, King?” Rip whispers, low enough for only us to hear.
I fumble with the rusty key lock. “It is.”
“I hope you’re right. You’ve already sacrificed so much for me.”
And I’ll sacrifice everything if it means you’ll be safe.
With a sharp clank, the chain comes undone, and Rip winces as he rubs his sore wrists. The chain on his ankles breaks super easily, and Mateo already got Thomas out by the time I finish.
Mateo checks his watch for the fiftieth time. “Two minutes before shift change.”
“You guys have to go. You’ll have two minutes to get over the fence before the guards come back. We’ll give it fifteen minutes before we tell everyone you escaped, and you need to be long gone by then. Don’t be fucking stupid and get caught, alright?”
Thomas looks at me as if I have two heads. “You’re telling us to flee with no backup, Kingsley.”
“Would you rather stay and get killed? Because that’s what everyone wants me to do.
” A frustrated sigh escapes me as I take out one of the emergency, untraceable flip phones my parents keep.
I shove it at Rip’s chest, and he takes it.
“No time to go back and get your clothes from your place. Just leave. I swear to God, if you get caught, I’ll kill you myself. ”
The brothers share a look, but nod. They aren’t idiots—they’re way too smart to screw up this opportunity, but the anticipation makes me want to hurl.
My cousin taps his wrist. “One minute.”
We rush them upstairs and in front of the only way out—the way in. I lean against the door and hear the low hum of the guard on the other side. Fucking perfect. It’s Jeff, a rookie, on duty. That only makes this easier for us.
“I’ll tell you when to run,” I whisper.
Thomas, even with the screaming guilt in his brown eyes, manages a thankful grin, but Rip’s mouth remains in a straight line, not even a hint of a smile.
He looks anything but grateful for what I’m doing for him.
I’m putting my ass on the line for him again, and he can’t even give a simple thankful smile?
But when I look at him again, and I mean really look at him, my offense fades away. His lips are parted slightly, breathing labored, eyes fixated on mine so intensely, like he fears if he looks away for a second, I’ll disappear.
It’s true. When he looks away, I will disappear.
This is the moment we’ve been dreading. It’s where it all ends.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this…” He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Fuck, Prince. I don’t want to leave you.”
Then don’t. I nearly say it, the words hovering beyond my lips, but I bite them back. There is no universe where Rip can stay.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be. You have to go.”
“What if it doesn’t have to be that way?” The waver in his voice tells me he doesn’t believe himself, but he’s grasping at straws.
I entangle my fingers in his hair, grasping it into my fist. “You know better than I that it does.”
Stabbing myself in the chest would have been easier than uttering that sentence. We knew where this was going before it began, yet the reality is a raw, agonizing sensation, like my skin is being torn from my bones. I’m being burned alive, and the only way it will stop is for this to be over.
I want him out of my sight so I can pretend he never existed. Let me return to my detached, emotionless self and move on with my life. I’d rather be devoid of all feeling than endure the excruciating, fire-like torture of Rip walking away from ever again.
Rip rests his head against mine, his hand gripping my waist and drawing me near. His blue eyes, filled with a deep ache of longing and regret, gaze into mine.
“Even thousands of miles away, you can’t get rid of me,” he whispers. “I’ve always meant what I said. You’re mine.”
I try to find words, but all I can do is nod.
“Twenty seconds,” Mateo interrupts.
Rip’s lips meet mine, pulling me into a deep, intimate kiss.
Our lips, starved for connection, move together, driven by a possessive yet tender force.
Just as I’ve imagined since the day we met, his lips are soft, insistent, and undeniably mine.
Rip broke his most important rule, a rule that was pointless from the beginning, and this one kiss overflows with the intensity of all the kisses we never shared.
Rip holds me tightly, a grip so secure it seems he’ll never let go. If I could slow down time, I’d make this moment last forever.
But I’m not a prince in a fairytale.
It seems daunting now, but in a year, this will be a fever dream for Rip. I hope it will be for me too.
He breaks away from the kiss, but makes no move to let go. I don’t either.
“I’m sorry we live this fucked up life, King.” His fingernails dig into my shoulders, barely holding back restraint. “But you can’t abandon me, okay? Please, I can’t handle being forgotten again. Not by you.”
“Forget you?” I repeat. “Absolutely impossible.”
His lips pull into a warm smile, satisfied.
Mateo opens the door, revealing a temporarily empty hallway. “Time.”
He ignores my cousin’s warning, giving me a knowing glance. “Take care of yourself. I’m not asking you to; I’m telling you to.”
Understanding what he truly means, I nod. “Of course, darling.”
Rip pecks me on the forehead as he and Thomas move for the door. Thomas takes off running outside, and Rip is about to follow, but stops at the door.
“Do you have my pocketknife?” he asks.
The camo pocketknife was one of the many weapons we took off Rip when we threw him down here. “It’s with all the other weapons.”
“Keep it for me?”
I quirk a small grin. “I’ll guard it with my life.”
A warm smile spread across Rip’s face in return. Then, it morphs into a crooked, mischievous smirk. “Oh, and… Ryland is in our closet.”
He vanishes before I can process his words. Peeking through the door, I watch them run out the back and race for the fence, a wave of relief washing over me as I don’t spot a single guard. Rip and Thomas hop the fence with ease, and then they’re gone.
Mateo wraps an arm around my shoulders. “We have to give each other a couple of bruises before we alert everyone, or they probably won’t believe us. Then we can rescue Ryland and get your knife.”
Still staring at the fence with deep longing, I can’t help but grind my teeth together.
Crazily enough, I’m looking forward to experiencing the rough impact of my cousin’s fists.
Maybe that physical pain will ignite the spark.
It might recreate some type of feeling inside of me that hopped the fence with Rip.
Or maybe it won’t, and that’s okay. Because again, how can I be upset about Rip if I’m hollow inside?