The Palace (Chateau Book 4) Read online

  Raven was somewhere behind us. I chose to believe she didn’t exist, so I genuinely forgot she was in my presence.

  Magnus cupped my forearm in a salute of goodbye before he turned to the wagon. “Brother.”

  I repeated the phrase. “Brother.”

  But then Raven walked up to me.

  Right up to my face.

  She looked at me, having the same eyes as Melanie.

  Magnus turned back and stilled.

  Her eyes shifted back and forth as she looked into mine, closer to me than she’d ever been before. There was a hint of fear, but also something else. She studied me like I was an animal thought to be extinct a very long time ago.

  Fury swept through me. Deep in my veins. Deep in my blood. Deep in my bones. I’d spared her from a violent crime, and she had the audacity to look at me—like we were fucking equals. She was the one thing standing in my way. She was the one thing that kept Melanie and me apart. I felt hatred. Pure hatred.

  “I just wanted to say thank you…for what you did.” Her eyes searched mine, as if she expected to see humanity in my gaze.

  There was none. “Your appreciation means nothing to me because my intervention had nothing to do with you. My only interest was keeping my brother’s dick clean. Speak to me again, and I will cut those blue eyes out of your skull and feed them to my dogs.”

  Magnus grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away. “Get into the wagon. Now.”

  I abruptly turned away and marched back into the camp, trying to forget that shit ever happened.

  Seventeen

  Gilbert

  Melanie

  He left without saying a word to me.

  If he’d stayed home, I would have ignored him anyway, but it still upset me that he’d left without saying goodbye.

  I had no idea when he would return.

  I couldn’t ask Gilbert because he wouldn’t know either.

  So, I spent my time reading, in the swimming pool, keeping myself busy.

  Waiting for him.

  A week had come and gone, and he didn’t return. Despite how angry I was with him, I missed him. Every time I went to bed, I hoped that he would be there the next morning. I lay in bed in the dark, cold despite the summer heat outside, and struggled to fall asleep because I replayed our final conversation over and over.

  I knew he was more than that.

  I knew it, and I think he’d gotten angry because he knew it too.

  My eyes flashed open when I heard it.

  Gunshots.

  Lots of gunshots.

  I sat up in bed and looked around, even though the sound was coming from the front gate. There was no one in my bedroom. I was alone. My heart raced a million miles an hour. Anxiety like I’d never known hit me so hard. Fear. Pure fear hit me. “Fender…” I got out of bed and tripped to the floor. I got to my feet and turned on the lamp so I could see two inches in front of my face. I dashed to the windows and opened the curtains.

  The gate was broken down.

  Dead men were on the ground.

  Three black SUVs drove up the roundabout to the house.

  “Oh my god…”

  Did they come because Fender wasn’t here?

  Or did they come because they assumed he would be here?

  Or…was he dead? “Oh god…”

  The door flew open, and I screamed.

  “It’s me.” Gilbert rushed to me, holding a handgun. “Come on.” He spoke in loud whispers and waved me toward him.

  I ran to him and took his hand. “What’s happening?”

  “Be quiet. We have to make it to the safe room. That’s where the staff hides.” He hurried me out the door and peeked down the hallway before he pulled me with him.

  I was breathing so hard, I thought I would pass out. I let him drag me along in the dark, heading to the stairs.

  Three men were running up, all dressed in black.

  Gilbert yanked me back. “Shit.” He moved quicker, hurrying down the hallway and taking a right.

  “Where’s the room?”

  “Bottom floor.”

  Oh no…

  We ran as quietly as we could.

  “Not here.” A voice drifted out from where we had just escaped. The sounds of doors being thrown open, furniture being pushed aside were so loud, it was as if they were right behind us. “Bitch, we’ll find you.”

  They were there for me.

  Gilbert took me to another set of stairs, one that the staff used, but it was blocked by guys at the bottom. “Fuck.” He tugged me again, pulling me into a random room where he left the door open. He quickly ushered me around behind the bed, and we both ducked down.

  “Did they kill everyone else?”

  “They’re already in the safe room.” He held his gun at the ready, ready to turn and shoot someone when they came looking.

  Despite my terror, my breathing paused to look at the side of his face, to look at him in a way I never had before. “You came for me…”

  He pressed his forefinger to his lips to hush me.

  The sounds of the house being ripped apart were audible. Plates shattering. Glass breaking. Men yelling to one another.

  Sitting there in the dark and listening to it all made the experience so much worse.

  I held on to his arm because I was scared, more scared than I’d ever been. “They’re here for me, which means they probably won’t kill me. Give me your gun and hide under the bed.”

  He put his forefinger to his lips again, giving me a fiery look that said, “Shut up now.”

  Footsteps grew louder.

  They entered the bedroom.

  I was so fucking scared, I was about to pass out.

  The closet doors were thrown open. The bathroom was checked.

  Maybe they wouldn’t look on the other side of the bed.

  But they did.

  A man stepped around and stilled when he saw us.

  Gilbert pulled that trigger, shot him right in the chest, and he went down instantly.

  I covered my mouth to stop the scream that wanted to burst out.

  The men heard the shot and came running. “She’s here!”

  Gilbert moved in front of me, covering me with his body as he prepared to face off against the men who came.

  I held on to him, tears streaming down my face.

  One man came around the corner of the bed, carrying a shotgun. He pointed it right at Gilbert.

  Gilbert was still, staring down that barrel without fear. “He’ll come for you. All of you.”

  I was barely coherent because the sobs racked my chest. “I’ll come with you. Just—”

  He pulled the trigger.

  “Ahh!” My hands immediately released him when the blood hit me.

  Gilbert went limp and slid to the floor, his eyes still open, his chest still rising and falling.

  “No!” My hand immediately went to his chest to stop the bleeding…even though nothing could be done.

  The man grabbed me by the hair and dragged me away. “Come on, bitch.”

  I screamed as I was dragged across the floor. “No!” I tried to fight back, but that just hurt my scalp harder.

  Gunshots rang out in the house.

  The man stilled and looked out the door before he grabbed me by the arm and yanked me to my feet.

  The gunshots grew louder, making my ears ring as they echoed down the hallways.

  He pulled me into the hallway then abruptly yanked me back like he saw something. He pushed me back and aimed his shotgun, as if expecting someone to round the corner any moment.

  It must have been Fender’s men, so I kicked him in the back of the knee so he would falter and drop his aim. “Help!”

  A man rounded the corner and moved too quickly for me to see what actually happened. But there was no gunshot. A knife sliced across the man’s throat and made him collapse in front of me.

  I crawled backward to get away.

  Then I saw Fender standing in front of me.
r />   Covered in blood. Expression maniacal. His breathing fast. His posture still. He took me in with a rage I’d never seen before. He was on his knees instantly, his arms grabbing me and checking me, his hand planting itself on my chest to see if I had a gunshot wound. “Chérie, are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine.” I heaved and heaved, breaking down in mental agony. “Gilbert…help him… He’s been shot.”

  When he realized I was fine, he moved to the floor where Gilbert lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, giving labored breaths as he clung to his last few minutes of life. When Fender bent down over him, Gilbert shifted his eyes to Fender’s face.

  I crawled over, tears pouring down my face. “He saved me. Everyone went to the bunker, but he came to get me.”

  Fender’s face turned stoic, and he planted his hand against his bloody chest. He inhaled a deep breath as he stared at his blood-soaked hand. Blood pooled underneath him, staining the rug with so much blood, it was incredible Gilbert was still alive.

  I choked on my sobs. “He…he wouldn’t let them take me.”

  Fender kept his hand on Gilbert’s chest and looked into his eyes. He didn’t tell him he would be okay. He didn’t try to move him so an ambulance could take him away. “Thank you.”

  Gilbert moved his arm weakly so his hand could reach Fender’s. He held it against his chest.

  Fender reciprocated and squeezed his hand.

  Gilbert breathed deep and hard, his breaths becoming more labored as the blood supply to his lungs grew less and less. “I…I…did it…for you…sir.”

  My hand cupped my face, the amount of my tears rivaling the amount of blood everywhere.

  Fender inhaled a deep breath as he looked down, his eyes growing soft. “Not ‘sir.’ Fender.” He held Gilbert’s hand on his chest and stared into the eyes of the man who had served him so faithfully, so loyally. There wasn’t deep emotion on his face, just a quiet sympathy, and he watched Gilbert struggle to breathe as their hands remained clasped. “Your family will be taken care of.”

  His breathing grew deeper and deeper, gasping for air that he couldn’t get. His eyes started to glaze over, and his hand immediately went slack in Fender’s. His body went rigid, all the muscles tightening, and then his head turned slightly because he went limp.

  When he was gone, Fender closed his eyes and bowed his head, sucking in a deep breath that showed the pain he’d been restraining until Gilbert was no longer with us.

  My tears stopped for a few seconds before they resumed once again, louder and harder.

  Fender released Gilbert’s hand and placed his hand over his heart. “I’m sorry.”

  Everything that happened after that was a blur.

  Fender carried Gilbert outside and placed him on the grass in the backyard, so he could look at the stars with his closed eyes, ascend to heaven easier. More men were dispatched to the palace, cleaning up the dead men in the hallway and disposing of them. The rest of the staff came from the safe room, unharmed, and the news of Gilbert devastated them all.

  It devastated me more—because he’d died for me.

  Once Fender knew I was unhurt, he ordered his men to work and left me alone in my bedroom. He didn’t comfort me. He didn’t speak to me. He had a lot more on his mind at the moment.

  I was covered in blood, so the first thing I did was take a shower. My nightgown was ruined, so I sealed it inside a bag and threw it in the trash. I didn’t bother to dry my hair or do my makeup. I just sat on the bed with my arms crossed over my chest, replaying the events over and over in my mind. Gunshots echoed. Their voices sounded like they were still in the hallway. Gilbert’s bravery. His dead face. The bloody rug. It cycled over and over—endlessly. Night deepened, but I was too flustered to lie down and try to go to sleep.

  Not without Fender.

  My bedroom door opened, and I immediately looked up to see him walk inside.

  He was in fresh clothes. The blood had been washed off his hands. But he wasn’t in his sweatpants—like he intended to leave. His eyes were soft as they looked into mine, coming to the bed with his heavy footsteps. He lowered himself on the mattress beside me, stared at the floor for a few moments, and then turned his chin to regard me.

  I had stopped crying, but looking at him now made me want to cry again.

  “I’m leaving.”

  “Can I come with you?”

  He shook his head. “I won’t be gone long.”

  “Are you…getting the people who did this?”

  He nodded.

  “Please be careful.”

  His dark eyes had no reaction.

  “But yes…make them pay for what they did.”

  His response was immediate. “I will.”

  My hand went to his, holding on tight.

  He squeezed my fingers in return. “While I’m gone, I want you to move all your things to my bedroom.”

  His eyes remained steady as they looked into mine, but mine turned confused.

  “I never want to be apart from you again, chérie.”

  Eighteen

  Machete

  Fender

  I piled into the SUV with my men, and we left the palace.

  I took twenty men—but left forty behind.

  With my elbow propped on the windowsill, I held the phone to my ear and called Magnus.

  He answered even though it was the middle of the night. “What is it?” His voice was quiet and his footsteps were audible, as if he were trying to vacate the room before Raven woke up.

  “Gilbert is dead.”

  He was silent, waiting for an explanation.

  “We have a snitch. The Renaldi Brothers hit the palace in my absence.”

  He released a loud breath that came out as a snarl.

  “By the time I returned, all of my men were dead. Gilbert had been hit with a shotgun. Nothing I could do for him.”

  “And Melanie?”

  “Unharmed.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Physically, yes.” If I hadn’t returned when I had, Melanie would have been taken. Used for ransom, but they wouldn’t have hesitated to hurt her until I’d negotiated her release. They came into my home, killed my butler, tried to take my woman, and to say I was livid was an understatement.

  “We rejected their partnership. This is a bad way to change your mind.”

  “They never intended to change my mind. If I’d wanted Melanie to be free, I’d have had to offer my own life instead—and I would have. They would have killed me, taken over the empire, and then killed you if you resisted.”

  He digested that in silence for a while. “You know where they are?”

  “Yes.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Kill the snitch. When they realized I was gone from the palace, they called it in. It has to be Jeremy.” Based on the timeline of everything that happened, it had to be him. “Must have been paid a fortune. Enough to take care of his family when he’s executed.”

  “You’re certain it’s him?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  They were in their private plane on the tarmac, taxiing to the runway.

  We hopped out of our SUVs, and in the third one was the rocket launcher. I carried it out, loaded it, and took a knee on the ground with the weapon in place. My eyes watched the plane move, waited for the perfect moment, gauged the distance and the speed, and then fired.

  It hit its mark perfectly—setting fire to the left wing and toppling the plane over.

  We got back into the SUVs and drove to where the plane burned on the asphalt.

  No one at the private airport came out to intercede. Police weren’t dispatched. They stayed inside and knew this wasn’t their concern.

  I hopped out and nodded to my men.

  They climbed up onto the plane, pulled the door open, and then dropped inside.

  I stood there and waited, my knife held at the ready.

  Victor Renaldi was pulled out of the p
lane in an unconscious state. He was carried down until he was dropped on the concrete.

  I nodded to another one of my men.

  He kneeled and injected the needle into his skin, giving him a high dose of epinephrine so he’d be forced to walk up.

  His eyes opened and he came to, taking in the scene, immediately panicking. When he tried to get up, a gun was shoved in his face.

  His brother Carl was taken out as well, but he was awake.

  He was dropped on the ground next to his brother. Then my men backed away, letting me do the honors.

  I stared down at them for a long time, my large knife held in my grip, the blade reflecting the flames and the smoke behind them. It was a summer night, but the heat from the flames made it an inferno. Only a few minutes were left before the flames torched the engines and caused an explosion that could kill us all. “Who’s first?”

  They remained on their asses in front of me, looking up at me with false bravado. Their deaths were inevitable, but they still breathed in fear, still shook with the revelation of their demise.

  I raised my voice. “I said, who’s first?”

  Victor exchanged a final look with his brother before he got shakily to his feet.

  I grabbed him with lightning speed, kicking the backs of his knees, and forced him back to the ground. My boot pressed into his back, pinning him to the ground. “Machete.”

  He inhaled a deep breath when his punishment was revealed.

  I was handed the large blade before I nodded to one of my guys.

  His boot replaced mine.

  I kneeled and looked at Victor, my blade held at the ready. “You tried to take my woman. Now I’m going to take everything from you.”

  He didn’t look at me, his cheek pressed to the tarmac.

  I raised my blade and slammed it down hard, severing his neck, blood squirting everywhere. “One.”

  A gurgle came from his lips, blood flooding out of every orifice he possessed.