The Silent Princess
Page 33
She heard the sounds of battle. Guns exploding, clashes of metal, and then she was being lifted up.
But, wait, this wasn’t right. It couldn’t be.
The scarred face she looked up into didn’t make any sense. But she recognized him anyway. How much of this was real and how much was her mind making up in order to cope with her death?
“Gavin?”
He looked down at her, worry and panic etched into the deeply scarred grooves of his face.
She saw him not as she saw him now, but in her mind she saw him as he used to be. Incredibly handsome, skin smooth and perfect. Every time she looked into her brother’s face, she couldn’t help but see him as she had her whole life growing up. She saw him just as she did as a little girl. Her handsome big brother, always wanting to help others, to take care of everyone else; even if it meant laying his own feelings on the side.
“Yeah, baby girl. Everything’s all right. Everything’s gonna be alright.”
Her entire body hurt. Even more so, she struggled to speak. Her words wet and throaty. “Alex...”
Gavin’s face pinched, brow furrowing into a deep cleft. She knew that look. Recognized it for the worry it represented. This wasn’t good.
“No, please don’t tell me he’s...”
Her head lollygagged around, the world spinning as her disorient brain spun relentlessly as if she were riding on a carousel that kept moving quicker and quicker. Vertigo made her dizzy, turned her world upside down. Spinning and spinning, black fog crept into the edge of her visions and it tunneled into a tiny pinpoint dot, losing focus. Losing...everything.
But she needed to know. Had one more question to ask.
Please god don’t let him be...
“Is he...?”
But Gavin didn’t answer, and all too soon, her world faded to black, and she slumped like dead weight.
Please, please god…don’t let him be....
Dead.
Chapter THIRTY-SIX
She awoke with a scream.
Sitting up instantly, the sound escaped before she even realized what was happening. Or, rather, what was not happening. And that was, she was not being killed. At least not currently.
Hanna had been through a drunken bender once or twice in her life, typically accompanied by her girlfriends. So she wasn’t entirely naive to the feelings of waking up hung-over in her bed.
However, this was different.
She was in fact in her own bed. Her real bed. The one in her house. The one which she owned that had Tom’s signature next to hers.
She recognized the comforter draped across her as much as she recognized the bathroom doorway directly across the room from her. The nightstand on the left side of the bed held her alarm clock. The numbers glowed: 8:15. Her eyes strayed to the window and noticed a lack of sunlight filtering through.
And then it hit her. A vision followed by a pang of nausea. The kind that had you gagging and trying to keep vile from spewing instantly.
She flailed out of bed and ran straight for the bathroom, kicking over a trashcan that had been set directly next to her bed, not where she usually kept it. The bin got kicked in the chaos and old trash spoiled the floor. She barely lifted the toilet seat in time to gag.
It was brutal and violent, but afterward she felt...marginally improved.
Hanna stood groggily and eyed herself in the dark mirror, not bothering to turn on the light. Her eyes weren’t ready for that yet. Like an old computer her brain struggled to boot up; it chugged along at a snail’s pace.
Images flashed in her mind of the last things she remembered. Running through the forest hand-in-hand with Alex. She remembered being at the cabin and kissing Alex, the gunshots and being chased into the mall, being shot in the stomach and of Xavier catching up to them. Almost inevitably. She also remembered Alex being shot or was he? And then the final image she saw...Gavin’s face.
That last part was where her memory grew fuzzy.
Suddenly her bedroom door burst open.
“Hanna?” a deep voice rasped. “Everything okay?”
She stuck her head out the bathroom, and her jaw slowly unhinged. A choking sound came from the back of her throat, an emotional, guttural response.
Her brother.
Gavin.
Like seeing a ghost or someone you thought you’d never ever see again, her jaw dropped and eyes filled with wonder. He was here in the flesh, not of her imagination.
“Aw, baby girl, it’s good to have you home.”
As soon as he spoke, she burst into tears.
Gavin rushed her and pulled her into a bear hug, squeezing her like there was no tomorrow. The tears flowed freely and she smiled in pure joy, heart radiating love and happiness.
And freedom.
Her family. Her brother. She was finally home. Warm and safe. She was in her brother’s arms being comforted just as he had held her after their parents died. Just as he’d held her after she confessed she was ending her mating with Tom. He’d always been there for her.
He rubbed her back and held her. Something their dad used to do, though she wondered if he even remembered that. The thought made her cry a little harder and hold him more fiercely.
“I’m so sorry,” Gavin said.
She pulled away, wiping tears and laughing. “What are you apologizing for? This is all my fault.”
He shook his head gravely. “No, baby girl, it was my fault. I shouldn’t have allowed that son of a bitch on my land, let alone, consigned to your dating him. If I had known he’d--that he would attack you--- ” He shook his head ruefully.
A hollow hole suddenly squashed all the joy out of her heart. Like taking a spear through the pounding pink organ as a sinking realization hit her. “Gavin,” she said slowly, “None of this...” she struggled to find the word, “fiasco was your fault. I hold all the blame.”
Gavin didn’t say anything but he merely shook his head in disagreement.
“The rest of the family is waiting downstairs. They can’t wait to see you.” He turned and shouted down the hallway. “Kaity, Hart, Jo, get up here now!”
Those names triggered a veering thought. She snatched Gavin’s arm arresting his attention. “Wait, where’s Alex?”
Gavin’s face pulled back, expression hiding his emotions.
Hanna’s stomach plummeted. Oh god... no!
“W-what happened?” her voice warbled unsteadily. Big fat tear drops slipping down her face.
“Hanna...maybe now isn’t the best time to--- ” He never got to finish.
Her younger sister Kaity burst through the door followed quickly by her brother Hart, the stoic detective, and then lastly by Jo. They enveloped her in stinging hugs, gave her sweeping kisses, and touching her hair. Kaity was crying as much as she was, talking gibberish with excitement.
“I’m so happy to have you back! You can’t believe how much we missed you, sister! God I love you so much. I thought you’d never come back.” Kaity sobbed and Hart made a gruff noise before hugging his younger sibling close.
Jo, her dearest cousin, came in the room last. He did not wear a joyful smile like the rest of them. Something about him, Hanna realized, had changed. But she couldn’t tell what it was. He hugged her, though somewhat briefly.
“Jo…are you...alright?”
Everyone froze. The moment lasted only that long--a moment--before everyone else resumed smiles and uneasy laughs. But those smiles were forced.
Jo looked like he tried to give her a grin but it appeared more like a grimace. “Yeah, fine, cuz. Hey I got... I gotta go. Water’s boiling in the kitchen.” And then he turned and left, leaving Hanna stunned in his wake.
Hanna’s stomach sunk. “What was that about?” she whispered.
Kaity’s mouth pinched, everyone looked down or away.
What the hell was going on here?
Finally, Gavin spoke up. “Listen, things have happened since you been gone. One of those things is...Jo was returned to us.”
“What do you mean returned to you? I thought he was still at the Gerioux pack.” Hanna sked.
“Forget that,” Kaity said. “We have some of your favorite dishes cooked and ready to eat downstairs in the kitchen. I bet you’re starved. Let’s go eat and relax and you can tell us all about what happened.” Her sister’s enthusiasm waned as it dawned on her that Hanna wouldn’t be recounting tales of some vacation trip to paradise, but an epic ordeal of murder and mayhem and imprisonment. And none of it would make for a good story over chicken soup and crackers.
They shuffled her out of the bedroom on dogged legs and down her old creaky stairs. Kaity continued to chat, smiling with such joy that Hanna hadn’t seen in a long time; however, inwardly Hanna began to loathe this family reunion. Certainly she was happy to be home and ‘safe’, if that was such a thing. Yet, the more she moved through her old home the more her mood soured. Too many unanswered questions. Which meant the answers to those questions were not good ones.
Here she was, back in her old home. The house in which she’d lived with her mate. She’d spent significantly more time in it than he did.
“I hate this house,” she said. Voice nearly a whisper.
Everyone froze mid-step; mouths parted in surprise, her family faced her.
“What was that?” Hart asked in his drawl. He wore his heavy black coat, and his beard was coming in, though he normally kept himself clean-shaven. She wondered if he’d let the hair grow in during this fiasco. He had that gruff cowboy appearance that many of the MacKellen men inspired to.
Louder she spoke, raising her voice as her emotions rose to dangerous, frenzied levels.
Too much.
This was all too much.
Too many non-answers, too much chaos. And worst of all, she was back here. In her own little hell hole.
“I said I hate this house!”
A shout that startled even herself. But as soon as she started, she couldn’t stop.
She tore free from her family and ran into her living room. “I hate this couch that he had to have.” She ran to it and punched and kicked it. When that wasn’t enough she turned back to her family with a nasty look on her face.
“Gimme a knife.”
Gavin whistled low. “Sweetheart, don’t think that’s a good idea ‘bout now. Why don’t you calm down?”
Rage shook her and she stomped over to him and from his utility belt, she yanked out his silver pocketknife. Gavin merely locked his jaw in place, not speaking a word.
“I hate these curtains. I hate this fireplace we never used.” She stabbed the couch, cut a deep gash into the upholstering. It felt good. Helped to relieve the pent up steam that had built inside her. It had to go somewhere. It needed release.
“I hate this couch. Too expensive, I said. What a waste, I said. But he had to have it. And how many hours did he spend sitting on it? Ever? None.”
But it wasn’t enough.
This room, this living room, she had only vague memories in here. She stormed in the kitchen, dropped the knife carelessly. Then she tore through the kitchen. Began throwing all the pots and pans out of the cabinets. With loud ringing bangs, they slammed against the ground and crashed against the refrigerator. Jo backed away from the stove and from her warily.
“Hanna stop!” Kaity pleaded, covering her ears.
“I hate him. I hate him so much. None of this would have ever happened. None of this ever would have happened if he’d just stayed faithful. Why couldn’t it work? Why couldn’t I make it work? WHY?!” she screamed the last word, holding the sound out until her voice strained and she finally had to breathe.
The cabinet doors hung open. One still swinging from the brief hurricane that swept through.
Counters were a mess. Silverware on the floor. Plates broken. So much waste.
And she hated all of it. All of what it represented. All of the time she wasted in her life with a useless man. And what had it all led to?
“I thought I needed to change. The problem was me, right? So, change and fix it, I thought. And look what that got me. Look what that got me,” she repeated in a daze. “Look at it! Do you see?!” Her knees buckled and she collapsed, breaking down into tears.
Her family stood uncomfortably around her, unsure what to say or do. Hell, so was she. She wasn’t even sure what had come over her, but being back in this place just reminded her of everything Tom had done. This house was Tom.
“Get me out of here,” she croaked.
Gavin’s eyebrow rose in surprise. “Where would you like to go, sweetheart?”
Through blurry eyes, she looked at her brother. “I want to see Alex. The man I love.”
Her family’s eyes widened in an unmistakable, family, genetic sort of way. The left eyebrow rising at the same exact time, the lips parting a scant half-inch, followed swiftly by a stiff furrowing of the brow.
“O-kay,” Kaity whistled. “Sounds like you have a juicy story or two.”
“Where is he?” Hanna stood, having calmed somewhat.
Gavin looked to Hart who clenched his jaw. “He’s at his house...but...”
Hanna marched toward the front door. She knew where Alex lived. She could walk there if she must.
“Wait, Hanna. God dammit will you wait a second?” Gavin snapped.
She turned around, arms crossing but she couldn’t look her family in the eye. Not even Jo who stood at the far edge of the group, more watchful than anything.
That’s when Hanna noticed it--the difference in Jo’s eyes.
Something had changed in him. No longer did his eyes glow with strength and ferocity but appeared different. Almost...dead-like. Cautious. He used to have a commander’s gaze, eyes used to ordering troops, but those had lost its luster and had gained something else. Something more sinister...something more dangerous. He’d grown...fury.
Whatever happened to him was simply another fuck up she could add to her list of mistakes.
“I’ll take you but first you need to know...” Gavin began.
“I need to know what?” she snapped.
Kaity reached out to grab Gavin’s arm and halt him from speaking. “Let her see for herself.”
What the hell were they talking about and just how bad was it?
She would soon find out.
* * * * *
Across the great snowy expanse of Canada, near the border of the United States, rested the Gerioux pack. Typically calm and hard-working, pack members bustled with work, at peace in their lives. However, all of that changed the moment Remi Gerioux died.
A prince to the pack. The only heir to the throne.
Lysette Gerioux bid Broderick adieu and watched him retreat from her study. He’d just reported that nearly forty-six per cent of the pack members were restless with her rule, a statistic which would have been improbably only a few weeks ago. Her own people whispered of a new alpha overtaking the pack, of someone stronger and more qualified replacing her. Of, a certain man taking over.
Her lip curled with disgust.
Broderick warned that the men especially, and even some women, nodded along to these ideas quite favorably. Rumors all begun by Xavier’s henchmen whom he’d paid to speak nonsense and spout lies about her.
A load of bullshit, to put it eloquently.
Before Hanna MacKellen had entered her land, no such rumors had existed. One of these particular lies claimed that Xavier, being a man, would do a better job than she did ruling the pack. They said that the killers of their precious prince would not have escaped if not for Lysette’s horrible rule. Some of these rumors spoke of obtaining a new pack leader.
Xavier Carbon.
Lysette ground her jaw; it cracked and popped.
She held a glass of wine in her hand but instead of slamming it back as she might normally have, she tossed the contents into the roaring fiery hearth. The flames flashed in a great burst all a
t once, before returning to its more diminutive stature.
She didn’t hear the door swing silently open behind her. Visitors weren’t expected and anyone who entered would have to bypass the guards outside the door. There was always a distinct knock to ring her.
So she didn’t hear the approaching footsteps, too absorbed in her worries.
Xavier needed to die and so far she had been doing a poor job placating the masses who desperately wanted Alex Thompson and Hanna MacKellen’s head for the murder of her nephew. She’d hoped by now that those two would have ended Xavier’s life as they’d planned. Since he wouldn’t leave this matter be.
This must be the opportunity of a lifetime for him. He wanted her throne and nothing else would suffice. She supposed his actions should have been anticipated; he’d been yearning for her position for years. And after her final refusal to marry him, Remi’s unfortunate death finally played right into his hands.
Of course, the bastard would be difficult to kill. He was a famous individual. And like all persons of interest, he had a squad of henchman flocking his every move. He was the kind of lykaen whom articles were written about in the wake of their death. Perhaps even a book. That’s why she wanted Alex and Hanna to take care of it, or anyone from the MacKellen pack for that matter. She didn’t care who stuck the knife in him, so long as the action occurred. Leave Xavier to them and she would deal with her own pack. Once Xavier was dead, she would finally be able to regain control of her kingdom. The whispers would end once and for all.
Contention also remained around Remi. Other rumors floated around from various sources. Mostly women. They spoke of his forceful advances, of his strange perversions and impulsive aggression. They appeared to believe Hanna MacKellen’s story, an idea Lysette had outright rejected at first. Something she didn’t want to consider. Now, as time went on, her mind began to change.
Lysette had to admit that she’d been doing much more drinking as of late after hearing these particular rumors. She didn’t want it to be true, but Remi was not her son. He was simply her nephew. She had not born him from her body, and she understood full well that there could be truth to these awful statements. No matter how much they churned her stomach.