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Is this what I turned him into?
A defiant voice in my head screams that it isn't true, that Troy would never do this. He would never let himself become this, no matter the reason. But as I stare down the barrel of the gun clutched in this man's hands, it's hard to believe anything else.
This man said himself that Troy sent him—that he's done with me.
Why would he lie? Troy is the only one who doesn't want us married. My father—Troy's father—wouldn't send this man to kill me. They'd send him to bring me home, perhaps. But not to kill me.
As much as my heart screams for another explanation, I don't see one.
"Get dressed and go," the intruder says. "Never come back here again. Never step foot in Stonehaven. If you do, I'll kill you."
I scramble to gather my clothes, tears streaming down my face as I realize that, in a kingdom where everyone lives out their fairytales, mine has turned into my worst nightmare. With shaking hands, I throw on my clothes and flee, leaving behind the shattered pieces of my heart in the very room where, just weeks ago, I thought my dreams had finally come true.
Chapter Twelve
Troy
By the time I arrive back at the cabin, it's after midnight and I'm fucking exhausted. The only thing on my mind is crawling into bed with Thalia and making her scream my name until her sweet voice breaks.
Her father knows she's with me, though I adamantly refused to tell him where. I wouldn't tell my father, either. I'm not taking any chances on either of them trying to locate her. I don't trust either of the bastards as far as I can throw them.
Phillip Rosewood seemed relieved to know that she's with me, however. Apparently, he's been frantic with worry about his daughter. Or so he says. He wasn't frantic enough to tell my father she's been missing for two weeks. He was too busy trying to hide that fact to save the contract.
He and I got a few things straight. If he wants to see his daughter ever again, he'll treat her with the fucking respect she deserves. If he ever threatens her again, it'll be the last mistake he makes.
My father and I got a few things straight too. I'm not his goddamn puppet and I won't be. He claims he was only trying to do me a favor—that he wants me to find what he had with my mother. I'm not entirely sure I believe that. I still believe this was about merging the Stonehaven and Rosewood dynasties. But at the end of the day, regardless of what he wants, I still end up with Thalia.
And the marriage contracts have been renegotiated. The Rosewood Kingdom stays the Rosewood Kingdom. The Stonehaven Kingdom stays the Stonehaven Kingdom. Thalia will be protected, no matter what. We rule both only until our children are old enough and then pass them on—the Rosewood Kingdom goes to our eldest daughter. The Stonehaven Kingdom will go to our eldest son.
I don't have to ask Thalia to know it's what she'd want. She has no desire to rule. She simply wants her freedom. I know because it's precisely what I want. Our fathers thought they could force our hands but they woke a sleeping giant instead. No one threatens my princess. No one.
Since they have no other heirs, they have fewer choices than we do. We can simply walk away. I'm prepared to do it. Thalia already has.
That reminder was all it took for them to see it my way. They had the new contracts drawn up for my approval before I left the castle.
I swung by Samson's after to let him know, but of course, he was out—undoubtedly bedding whatever woman he's talked into his bed this week. I left him a note, telling him to call off his search. I know what my princess has been hiding now.
As soon as I have my way with her, I intend to tell her everything. She won't sleep another night with those worries clouding her mind. When the sun rises tomorrow, she'll know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she's mine permanently and nothing will ever take her from me.
I slip inside the cabin, shoving the door closed behind me loud enough to ensure she hears it. I kick my boots off, my cock already hard and throbbing in anticipation.
Aside from the fire burning in the grate, the cabin is dark. The floor shines where she scrubbed it. The scent of cleaner lingers in the air.
I stride down the hall, making no attempt to be quiet. If she's awake, I want her to hear me coming. I want her writhing in anticipation, her mind racing with thoughts of what I'm going to do to her tonight. I hope she's squirming on the bed, desperately trying not to slip her fingers between her legs to touch her pretty little pussy.
And if she isn't awake—well, she will be eventually.
A frown tugs at my lips when I see the bedroom door standing open. She always closes it so she hears me coming—no matter how loud or how quiet I've been. I step into the room and see the sheet on the floor.
"What the fuck?" I scan the shadows, thinking maybe she's trying to hide from me, that she's playing some new game.
My gaze lands on the small hole over the bed and my blood freezes in my veins. My hand slams against the light switch. Panic surges through my veins like raging fire.
No.
I sprint across the room, heart pounding against my chest with each step. It's a bullet hole. A fucking bullet hole.
I scream her name, tearing apart the bed in a frenzy, searching for any trace of blood. But there is none.
