Page 52 of Empress of Ruin
“I don’t gotta do shit, pretty boy. This girl was seen running from a drug raid. We’re taking her down to the station. Whoever thisKillian Kingis can meet her down there.”
Fuck. My. Life.
Chapter Twenty
Lyra
An unknown amount of time later, I’m seated in an interrogation room. My ankle still throbs—I’ve been denied medical care. Apparently, the officers assumed that mylimpingwas just an attempt to getting out of being arrested.
Oddly, I haven’tactuallybeen interrogated, or processed. There’s been no mugshot, nothing that I’d expect after being supposedly arrested on suspected charges of something to do with drugs. I was dragged straight here, seated, and left alone.
I try to convince myself that there might still be a way out—that I might get cleared of suspicion, get Tommy’s help, and get the fuck out of this godforsaken country.
But my ankle is throbbing like a motherfucker, and I can see that it’s swelling up and turning blue. I can technically put some weight on it, which gives me hope that it’s not broken, but itgoddamnhurts.Badly enough that, if I do somehow get out of here in one piece and without a felony attached to my name, I’ll be hobbling my way to an airport or cargo ship, wherever it is I need to go to find my way to freedom elsewhere.
But would leaving really be freedom?I’d be on the run, again. Wasting money from my savings, again. Trying tosurviverather than actually living. The last five months were absolutely miserable—is that the cost of my perceived freedom?
After some time, the pain in my ankle become unmanageable, and I try to recall the basic first-aid courses I had to take for my undercover work with Empire Journal. I elevate my leg onto the cool metal table before me, grimacing and wincing my way through it, and pull off my shoe. I should probably have chosen better shoes for running, not these boots with the short heels, but it’s not like I could sneak into Killian’s bedroom without him knowing and raid my closet.
Already, I raided the bank account, which is bad enough. I’ve never been a thief, but I don’t feel much guilt—Killian gave me the card and told me to spend however much I want on it. A few grand as withdrawals can’treallyirk him that much.
The door behind me creaks open some minutes or hours later. I can’t tell, because there isn’t even a fuckingclockin this room.
“What a mess you’ve made, Little Bird.”
All the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand on end, and goosebumps scatter across my skin like a rash.Not him. Anyone but Killian. Fuck, how did he even get in here?
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—
“What’s this?” Killian rounds me, coming to a stop right beside the table. “What thefuckis this?” He glares at it like it’s personally offended him. “Who did this to you?”
“This is the consequence of any attempt at freedom in this godforsaken country,” I rasp.
If he’s upset by my quip, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he turns a glare at a camera in the left corner of the room, and gives his head a slow shake.
I imagine whoever’s watching on the other end won’t live to see the end of the night. Or, at least, they won’t have their job for very long.
How many men go this far out of the way for their significant others?How many have a willingness to do whatever it takes to protect and avenge them?
“Come, Little Bird.” Killian pulls a chair from the other end of the interrogation table, and drags it next to me. He sits, carefully takes a hold of my calf, and lowers my ankle to his waiting leg. I hiss a little, twitching in pain, but it’s not like he goes out of his way to make it worse.
“Fuck,” he murmurs. “Good news is, it’s not broken, but that is onenastysprain.” He sighs, raising his eyes to look at me with reprimand, as if it’s all my fault for trying to run away in the first place.
“I’d rather deal with this than a man who accuses me of being on my period when I get upset over his complete inability to function calmly and appropriately in a relationship.”
Killian hides an eye-roll. “Don’t be dramatic. I might not have handled it the best way—”
“You think?” I say with mock surprise.
“—but running away was still the stupidest thing you could’ve possibly done.”
“I had to try!” I snap. My voice deflates, and I feel my shoulders hunch inward. “Ihadto try. Anything else would’ve been unthinkable.”
“Yes, well.” Killian clears his throat. “Fortunately for both of us, you failed.” He sighs, shaking his head at me, as if I’m a child who can’t follow a simple set of instructions. “You’re lucky I have the power to manage this fallout. I don’t know how manytimes I have to tell you that we live in dangerous times.Bothof our heads are on the line.” He gestures down at my leg. “While I hate seeing you hurt, I’m almost glad it’ll be a few weeks before you can run again. Hopefully by then, you’ll have learned your place.”
“Myplace,” I scoff. “As your compliant little captive? As your perfect Stepford wife? As a woman who doesn’t have any agency, and can’t evencommunicatesemi-normally with the man who’s decided to claim her?”
“We can hash all this out later. Here’s what’s going to happen. I’ve cleared everything with the chief of police—you won’t be going to prison. They now understand that you were at the wrong place, in the wrong time. In fact, there’s not even going to be a record of your detainment. The policeman who tackled you andhurt youis going to find that his life will become very difficult, very quickly. That is, if I let him keep it.”
