Chapter 88

Jesse

I always enjoyed being in Scott’s penthouse, but never more so than I did just then. It had an amazing, sprawling view, polished floors, shelves lined with rare books, and a table of expensive liquor. It was all pretentious but comfortable. Back when I had been on the streets, it was the kind of place I would have dreamed of.

It was just a shame he’d never enjoy it again the same way. Not after I had tainted it by my abrupt arrival.

I sat on his leather couch, one boot resting on the edge of his glass coffee table, swirling his favorite whiskey in his favorite tumbler. I took a deep swallow, savoring the taste and the feeling of this newfound freedom after so many days of being bound and beaten.

But now, it was Scott who was suffering. He was bound and gagged, still kicking feebly at the closed closet door where he was stowed away. Every now and then, he thumped weakly, though his attempts at screaming around the gag had tapered off uselessly

It was easy to ignore. I knew he would be silent soon; he just needed time. They always wore out eventually.

I had bigger things to worry about than Scott’s muffled protests. Like the ticking clock of my own freedom and survival.

The palace would be crawling with harried soldiers by now, and Logan would be losing his mind at the news of my absence. Even then, I could hear the distant drone of the warhorns proclaiming my escape.

Good. Let Logan feel it. Let him taste the chaos, the way I’d tasted it every day of my life growing up in his shadow. I wanted to see him squirm.

Beyond that base desire to see my half-brother suffer, I had no plan. Not really. All I knew was that I needed to stay free and to survive.

I had a knife I had stolen from Scott’s kitchen stowed away in my boot, but it was the only weapon and leverage I had standing against anyone who might try to burst in.

But when someone else arrived, they didn’t bust down the front door and storm the penthouse. No, instead, the knock came around sundown, sharp and deliberate. The sound was crisp and familiar.

I rose slowly and cracked the door, knowing who I would see before I did.

Emma.

Her hair was pulled back, her lips painted expertly. She had always been pretty enough, but in her defiance, she looked radiant. She stepped in without waiting for an invitation, her eyes darting to the wreckage I’d made of Scott’s once-pristine living room in my aggressive attempts to subdue him.

There was a broken chair and more than enough shattered glass to crush underfoot. I hadn’t seen the point of cleaning it up, so Emma and I crunched our way over to the living space and sat.

“I heard you escaped,” she said coolly, looking me over like I was something nothing better than the shards of glass now wedged in the underside of her shoe. “And that you didn’t think to call me.”

I sighed. She had always been complicated. She wanted attention and affection purely on her terms.

“Didn’t know we were still on calling terms,” I admitted.

“You're right. Maybe we shouldn’t be. But I had to see you and look you in the eye. You knew,” she snapped. “You knew what Evelyn was. You knew that she was the princess, and you didn’t tell me.”

I poured myself another drink. The burn of it down my throat was delicious and refreshing.

“I did,” I admitted. “It’s not my fault you couldn’t see through her lies. Besides, would you have believed me if I had told you the truth?”

Her jaw clenched. “You should have told me the truth regardless. After all I’ve done for you...”

I tilted my glass toward her. “And risk you calling me a liar and losing my last ally? Please. You liked toying with Evelyn when she was just the broken little healer hiding behind palace walls. Now she’s a princess, and suddenly you feel the leash tightening. Don’t pretend you don’t know what this means for you?”

I leaned forward. “Also, I’m not an idiot. I can see why you came running back to me after you told me you were a true rogue with no allegiance. You know that if she finds out the truth of your involvement over the years, there will be hell to pay, so you came back here with your tail between your legs.”

“She wouldn’t—”

“She would,” I cut in. “She already has. She’s been investigating you and your ties for months. You think she’ll let this much betrayal go? That she’ll stop at simply surviving? No. She’s royalty. Her place is above you. And she’ll make sure everyone knows it, especially when she discovers everything you’ve done.”

Emma looked away, lips pressed into a hard line. She didn’t like hearing it, but she didn’t disagree either. She knew I was speaking truthfully, even if I refused to sugarcoat it.

“You hate her too,” she said.

“I don’t,” I said. Even though I wanted to and had tried to convince myself as much, it just wasn’t in me. “But if it’s between her and me… well, I’m a survivalist. I’ll do what needs to be done.”

I sighed. “Regardless, that’s not the point. The point is, she’ll never see you as her equal. Not really. No matter how much she smiles at you and continues to play pretend. She’ll always be looking for ways to stop you. Looking for the truth. You’ve always been free, haven’t you? Unclaimed. Untouched by the hierarchy.”

“I’ve fought tooth and nail for that freedom,” she hissed, her eyes narrowing.

“And now it’s slipping through your fingers,” I said. “And if we’re not careful, it will slip through both of ours.”

Silence stretched between us. Scott pounded on the closet door a few times, but neither of us moved. Emma didn’t even blink, she paid it so little mind.

She didn’t love me. Hell, she barely tolerated me anymore. But Emma understood power. She knew the necessity of survival and freedom.

“She’s not like the others,” Emma said softly, almost to herself. “No wonder he chose her.”

“No,” I agreed. “She’s worse than the others. Because she doesn’t even know what she’s becoming or what she is truly capable of. I’ve spent enough time with her to know that she hasn’t realized her true potential yet, but when she does… god help us.”

Emma crossed her arms, eyes dark with thought. Then, finally said, “What do you need?”

My brows lifted. She smoothed out her skirts uncomfortably, sighing in defeat.

“If we let them rule, they’ll never allow us to live freely. They’ll try to crush us again. So what do you need to get back on your feet?” she clarified, her tone sharp. “I’ll do what needs to be done to remind Evelyn that she doesn’t own this kingdom. Yet.”

I took a deep swallow, finishing my drink, and placed the emptied glass on the table with a sense of finality.

“We need information, first and foremost. Then we need allies and safe houses. And a way to turn the people against her. I think we could use her romance with my half-brother to our advantage." I smiled slyly.

Emma nodded slowly. “I can get you all of the above.”

“It will be like old times,” I said.

She smiled, but there was no warmth in it. Then, she stood, brushing her hair from her shoulder casually.

“But just so you know, I’m not doing this for you. Don’t get it twisted: I’d rather live dangerously than live under her.”