Page 205 of Heartless Sinner

I scooted closer to get a better look out the window, seeing the Caliran flag on the side.

Thank God.

We stepped out of the car, and Blair walked at my side as we crossed the tarmac. Enzo stayed close, making it impossible to forget this wasn’t a ride home. It was an escort out of the country.

“I promise to send all your things,” Blair said when we reached the stairs, her voice cracking as she pulled me in for another hug.

I held on tight, terrified that, like with Brooks, I’d never see her again.

Tears fell down both our cheeks.

I swiped one away. “I’ll miss you.”

She did the same with mine. “This isn’t the end. I promise.”

I shook my head, knowing that wasn’t true. As I climbed aboard, I held my heels in one hand and my tiara with the other.

Salana stood there, waiting, and I managed a weak smile. Without asking any questions, she was the next person to hug me. Her being here told me all of this had been arranged.

There was no changing anyone’s mind. I really wasn’t ever coming back.

I sat, staring out the window at Blair and Enzo still on the tarmac, as the engine roared to life. The jet lifted off the runway, and they faded from my view.

I watched America disappear beneath us.

And somewhere down there was the man I loved, believing I’d betrayed every moment we’d ever shared together.

Fifty-Three

Brooks

“Ifigured if anyone else wanted him dead, it was you,” Cory said.

Blood coated his hands, drenched his torn shirt, and speckled his face, looking almost like freckles.

We stood shoulder to shoulder over his father’s dead body.

He’d sent me the address to meet him at a hotel a few miles from the White House, but nothing could’ve prepared me for this.

The room looked like a slaughterhouse.

Blood soaked into the carpet, splattered into violent waves across the walls, and stained the floral couch.

Bellamonte stared at the ceiling with lifeless, glassy eyes. That smug smile he’d worn while in the Red Room earlier was gone. A gun was loosely gripped in his limp hand.

Good. Rot in hell, you bastard.

Cory let out an agonizing laugh and dragged a bloody hand down his face, smearing a fresh streak across his cheek.

“I didn’t come to his room planning to kill him.” He winced, as if suddenly remembering every detail, and pressed a palm against his stomach.

I stayed quiet, taking in the scene.

It was hard to tell, but there were at least four stab wounds and one long slash across his throat.

“We argued over what he did tonight at the White House.” Cory’s stare fixed on his father’s body. “We argued over how he thought Peter was a better son than me. He said Peter would’ve sealed the deal and not let you steal Daphne.” His voice was almost monotone now. “He said I owed it to him to become king. If I didn’t, I was a sickening disappointment.”

I winced. “Damn, and I thought my dad was an asshole.”