Ana
The next morning, I’m jumping out of bed as soon as I hear Cassio leave. He didn’t mean to, but he accidentally woke me up early when he got a phone call he didn’t ignore. Eavesdropping is typically quite impolite, but in this case, I’m glad I was awake enough to listen in.
I finally have an opportunity to help him, and I’m going to take it. My stomach is in knots with nerves, but seeing Killian yesterday gave me a boost of strength. Perhaps the plan I formulated in a matter of minutes isn’t the best one, and sure, I’m not extremely confident in my ability to pull it off. However, I think if I pull it off, it will be worth the stress.
Since I showered last night before climbing into bed, I don’t need to wash myself again. I focus on getting my hair styled and makeup slathered on. After twenty minutes, I admire my handwork in the vanity mirror. Slicked-back high ponytail that falls down to the center of my back, smokey eyes and pink-painted lips. My face looks almost unrecognizable after weeks of going without any makeup at all. I used to wear it every single day, enjoying the ritual and the results.
That feels like a lifetime ago, now. Ever since using my disassociation skills to such an extreme on that awful night, my memory has been unreliable. Cole originally started teaching me the ability to help me deal with having such an active eidetic memory. It didn’t use to bother me as a child, in fact, I loved it. Being able to remember course material in school without studying, never misplacing anything important, and always remembering important dates.
But eventually, my mind started to feel full. Like there was a capacity I had already met, and still, my brain wouldn’t stop trying to stuff more material in. I would get awful, overwhelming headaches where I couldn’t stop thinking. A million different topics would bubble to the surface, bothering me with loud and irrelevant thoughts. I wished so hard that I could simply shut down and make it stop.
Cole took notice, and started to help me sift through memories, and trained me to hyper-focus on one thing at a time when I needed. I was doubtful that he could have methods to truly relieve the ache I was experiencing. And yet he did.
And until I needed to fully numb myself, shoving all troubling memories into the back of my mind, it worked perfectly. I became a master of thought sorting, taking back control of my memory. But now? Things that never felt unfamiliar before do, and I feel more forgetful than ever. Part of me wishes I could blame it on the concussion, but it was hardly severe enough to cause this level of disarray.
Maybe I just need more time to heal completely.
Sighing, I straighten my shoulders and disappear into my closet, heading directly toward the dress I want. It’s a long black A-line with a plunging neckline, open back, and a deep slit up the right side. It doesn’t take long to slip into, nor to add a diamond necklace and a few matching bracelets to compliment the look. A pair of black stilettos complete my ensemble, and click hard against the floor as I rush downstairs.
Just as I predicted, Cassio has already left the apartment. But I find Armani and Colton sipping steaming cups of coffee while Sirius sits near them, watching patiently.
“Umm, hello model.” Colton whistles, noticing me first. “What’s the occasion?”
“I need to put some people in their place,” I inform him, lifting my chin. “Would you gentlemen like to accompany me?”
Armani blinks. “You want to leave?”
“You’re definitely not going anywhere without us,” Colton declares.
I thought they would say as much.
“Well, come along then.” Looking down at my guard dog, I offer him a soft smile and a pet to the head. “Sirius, follow.”
“I need to know where we’re going,” Armani says seriously.
“We’re visiting my husband,” I tell him innocently. “There seem to be some men who think they can question him about my willingness to be his wife. I heard him on the phone this morning, and he’s being accused of holding me hostage. Do I look like a woman being held against my will?”
“You look like a woman with murder in your eyes,” Colton counters, standing from his seat at the kitchen counter. “I love it.”
Slapping his cowboy hat on top of his head, he pulls a handgun from the back of his jeans and begins to check its magazine for ammunition. Armani sighs and begins to do the same, racking a bullet into the chamber before holstering it once more. Now if there’s any sort of trouble, he’ll be quick to draw and fire.
“If I’d known you wanted to stir up trouble looking like that, I would have dressed better,” Armani grumbles, strapping a knife around his ankle.
“You look lovely,” I argue.
Armani is always dressed well, even for hanging out around the house. Today he’s wearing fitted black trousers and a silk button up with the sleeves rolled up to display his many arm tattoos. While Colton is wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and a dark henley, he still looks put together enough to be by my side as well.
“Don’t let Cassio hear you say that.” Colton chuckles. “Armani prefers his pretty boy head attached to his shoulders after all.”
My heart drums an excited beat at the implication. I’m thrilled Colton seems to think that Cassio wouldn’t like me complimenting other men—though I have no true attraction to Armani. But I think if I heard my husband telling another woman she looked lovely, I’d want to remove her head as well. I’m still digesting these new emotions I seem to have brewing for Cassio, but I know they are utterly possessive ones.
With my two new friends prepared to leave, we step into the elevator and hit the designated red button. The Kings don’t always have meetings in this building’s private basement, but they have been convening there more often than not as of late. With security concerns, it’s best for Cassio to be as close to the penthouse as possible.
As we begin our slow descent, I feel my hair being swished to the side.
“Finally showing off that back piece?”
My eyes flick over my shoulder at Armani, a smile playing on my lips. “Been curious about it, have you?”
At this point the two of them have seen several glimpses of my back tattoo, since I don’t cover all of my skin while casually existing in the apartment. But I’ve never entirely revealed it, I’m not even sure that Cassio has gotten a full look.
“Oh, I’m always curious about clean lines and saturated black,” Armani answers, eyes scanning the artwork. “This must have taken at least ten hours. How did it feel?”
“She probably sat for it like a champ,” Colton muses. “Women take tats so much more peacefully than men.”
“It took twelve, and it only hurt a bit over the spine,” I mention, smiling with pride.
Colton arches a brow, sensing the hint of wickedness in my choice of attire. “And is there a reason you’re choosing to finally display it?”
“The men will understand,” I reply cryptically, returning my eyes to the chrome elevator doors. A second later, a small ding sounds, and they part, revealing a cold cement room filled with Kings’ soldiers.
Whatever conversation that may have been occurring halts immediately, and all eyes land on me. A rush of anxiety I didn’t expect, nor do I appreciate rushes through my veins. It’s violently uncomfortable, but my need to keep up appearances is stronger.
Tilting up my chin, I waltz over the threshold, feeling Sirius trot along by my side. A makeshift aisle of shifting bodies reveals Cassio, sitting in the Monarch’s chair, Gerard sitting to his left. I’ve been in this room before, and seen Bron in that very chair, with Killian standing to his right—as it was meant to be. But Cassio doesn’t look out of place, he looks just as powerful and regal as the man who takes the throne should be.
Ponytail shifting to one side of my neck, my tattoo becomes a sort of message, flashing all of the subjects behind me. Few have seen it before, but all are aware of what it means.
The delicate skin of my back is almost entirely covered by a large black viper, the snake featured in the Knight family crest. I got the piece when I finally decided to be with Cole, not for him, but to cement myself as a true Knight. I wanted anyone who saw it to know that I wasn’t just Brons stepdaughter, or Cole’s potential love interest, I was a princess amongst The Kings, and they would do well to remember it.
Cassio’s fiery gaze rolls up and down my body and I suppress a shiver, feeling an undeniable heat pass between us. With only a few more purposeful steps, I’m standing just in front of him as Colton and Armani shift to the side. The two of them give me space to work, while still keeping a very obvious eye on me.
My husband has his eyes on me too, scanning my face for some sort of assurance. Giving him the subtlest of nods, I let him know that I’m okay, despite the awful anxiety brewing in my stomach. I will no-doubt spiral into some kind of panic after leaving this room, but it will be worth it.
Mollified enough, Cassio leans back in his seat, a silent invitation I don’t hesitate to accept. Sitting down slowly on his thighs, I cross one leg over the other, and narrow my eyes at the crowd in front of us. They’re the reason I’m here, disrupting what could be a peaceful day with childish antics. I wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable without being surrounded by unfamiliar faces, any of which could have had something to do with Cole’s death and Killian’s assault.
“I hear that some of you are daring to question my husband,” I speak, voice clear and dripping with disapproval. The crowd shifts, an awkwardness blooming all around, but I’m not quite done chastising this group of men. The ones who aren’t guilty won’t be affected by my scorn, but the ones who are will take their tongue lashing or face greater wrath.
“Doubting your own Duke’s integrity when he reports my well-being,” I continue, nodding to Gerard’s place to the left, I click my tongue. “I’d like to know who believes their conspiracies to be more trustworthy than your leaderships?”
When no one speaks up, I make a short hmph noise.
“I see.” Eyes scanning over the group, I fold my arms and sit back further in Cassio’s lap. “I trust that my presence here today clears up any misguided confusion, hmm? I am very clearly alive and unharmed. I do not appreciate needing to leave the solitude of my home for petty theories.”
“You haven’t been seen outside of yer home for over a month,” a throaty Irishman in the back pipes up. “We have a right to be concerned.”
It would be touching, if it didn’t piss me off so much.
“My mother is dead,” I snap, glaring though I can’t see him clearly. “I have no desire to return to the social niceties I used to enjoy. I am in mourning. And even if I weren’t, Gerard has reported my well-being more than once, has he not?”
When no one answers, I turn to the Duke himself. “Have you not?”
“I have, my lady,” he replies, using the silly title Cole insisted I be called. He was their “lord” after all. Both he and Killian, until Killian becomes Monarch.
“I thought as much,” I reply, looking back at the men with clear disapproval in my gaze.
“What about Cole?”
The quiet question makes my spine stiffen.
“Do not—” Cassio begins, voice dark and deadly.
“Cole would have your tongue for questioning me,” I threaten, wishing I could find the voice responsible for the inquisition. “All of you know it.”
There’s a tense shift amongst the men, and I nod.
“Do not question my safety or my marriage. Cassio is the only reason your ranks haven’t fallen apart in your Monarch’s absence.”
As far as I know, the men have all been made aware of Bron, Cole, and my mother’s death. As for where they think Killian is, I’m not sure. I hope our attackers believe he’s dead, purely so that they won’t come looking for him. But I think Gerard and Cassio have made up some excuse about family business in London to the men.
They can’t believe their Monarch is gone, or they might have a much more difficult time accepting my husband. Temporary leadership from an outsider is one thing, a permanent placement would likely be met with serious outcry. But I doubt Killian would want his people to know about his recovery, needing to remain a figure of strength and hope.
“You may not want to be his best friend,” I continue, voice hard. “But he is taking care of you, just as he takes care of me. Do not make me come back here, or I will not simply scold you as the boys you are acting like.”
“Yes?” Gerard barks, signaling them to answer.
“Yes!” A loud ripple of replies blares.
“I’ll be going now, Husband,” I tell Cassio quietly, leaning back to press a kiss to his cheek. But as I stand, he does as well.
“I’ll escort you, Wife,” he returns, voice gravelly.
Sirius follows us to the elevator like the dutiful good boy that he is, but Colton and Armani hang back at Cassio’s instruction. As soon as the metal doors shut, I breathe out heavily and lean against the wall. Delayed panic washes over my whole body and I grimace, feeling light headed.
My eyes slam shut as I try to push away the awful sensation. I never expected to be so unnerved and on edge in that room. But the reminders of Cole and Killian were everywhere. And though it was nothing like the shotty little room our kidnappers put us in, the basement had the same kind of cold cement walls that made my skin crawl.
“Don’t… ever… do that again,” Cassio says, his voice thick with tension. His hands are on my biceps, rubbing up and down like he knows I’m in desperate need of comfort.
Startled by this, my eyes pop open. “W-what? I thought I did good?”
“You did fucking amazing, Ana,” he grits out.
Sighing, I swallow and ask, “Then what’s the problem?”
“You don’t do that,” he demands, pointing harshly toward the door. “Do not ever put those people above yourself. I don’t care if they think my family has you under some kind of spell, or that I have you locked up and shackled to me against your will. You will not make yourself sick with panic to help us, do you hear me?”
He could tell?
“I couldn’t give a singular fuck what they think of me, Ana. Your health matters more than any of this shit. You matter more. Understand?”
Sniffling, my head bobs. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”
“Jesus Christ,” he swears, shaking his head. “I’m not mad at you, Ana. I’m upset that you put yourself through that when you didn’t need to.”
“I wanted to help.”
“I know you did,” he replies softly, lifting my chin with his thumb and curled pointer finger. “Look, this situation isn’t easy for either of us. But you’re my wife, Ana. I take care of you, all right?”
“But—”
His stern expression has the protest dying on my tongue.
“We can figure out the rest someday but for now, you let me do that. You need something, you tell me. Having a harder day than most? Let me know. If something makes you uncomfortable, I make sure it stops. Don’t hurt yourself more than you’ve already been hurt. Especially not for political mafia bullshit.”
My throat clogs with emotion, feeling a rush of relief blanket around me. “You’re a good husband, Cassio,” I choke out.
An unfamiliar look lights up in his eyes, and his following words—though barely loud enough to hear—make my stomach flip.
“You haven’t seen the half of it.”
