Page 22 of Lethal King

“Just because I’m big doesn’t mean I can’t move fast.”

“I’m sure you hear that from your lady friends all the time.”

“Hey, at least I’m getting laid.”

“Only because you’re a manwhore,” I snip back, trying not to let on how much that comment actually bugs me.

PMSing can be a bitch.

“Guilty as charged,” Tytus chuckles. “Oh shit, I think I see them.”

“Who?”

“Maksim Smolov… and Riana’s little sister.”

“Stay away from her,” I immediately order. “She’s a last resort.”

“Come on. I’ll give her back,” Tytus promises.

“Enough, Tytus. Stay focused. Distract those two. I’m almost at the throne room.”

“Fine.”

Once again, I’m cut off from my adoptive brother. To my surprise, his absence sends a subtle gust of loneliness rustling through me.

For better and for worse, I’m alone now.

Hell, other than the thugs upstairs, I haven’t encountered much resistance at all. It’s not exactly what I was expecting—or even hoping for. But that’s fine.

Plenty of blood will still be spilled.

Up ahead, I spot the entryway to my destination. The throne room.

Technically, I haven’t been inside yet, but my ghost has. One of Tytus’ little birdies managed to sneak a hologram disc of mine into the stately manor last week. It’s how we were able to sketch out our own digital blueprints of this secret Kilpatrick alcove. It’s how we managed to embed Tytus’ smoke bombs into the walls. It’s how we were able to plan our little ambush.

It's also how I’ll leave my final message to Rian Kilpatrick after I’ve disappeared with his crown.

“Get down!”

Even though I’ve never met the man in person, I still recognize Maksim Smolov’s voice up ahead. It rages through the smoke, quickly accompanied by a deafening round of gunshots.

Tytus must be here.

There isn’t an ounce of concern in me for my adoptive brother. He can take care of himself almost as well as I can.

Almost.

“Good luck,” I silently smirk, my hand falling onto the ornate doorknob of the Kilpatrick throne room. “Try not to hurt the girl. I wouldn’t want this to get any more personal than it already is.”

Even as I say it, part of me knows that’s a lie. I do want this to get more personal. It might be the only way to get my reckless little lion back on my tail.

Pushing on the handle, I take one last look around to make sure I’m not being followed. I’m about to enter the most dangerous section of our little plan.

There’s only one way out of this room, after all. And I’m standing in it. If my enemies find out that I’m here before I can leave, then they might just be able to trap me. And I’ve long since promised myself I won’t ever allow myself to be trapped again. Not for long. Even if it means death.

“… What the fuck?”

I’ve barely even had time to finish my scan of the hallway before something completely unexpected brushes against my ankle. A pistol immediately replaces the switchblade I’ve been holding.