Wicked Rule (Heartless Kingdom Book 1)

by K. I. Lynn

  “I already suspected.”

  I looked up to him, but he wasn’t taking his eyes off Lou. “You did?”

  He nodded. “Hugo has been looking into it for a month.” He looked back to Lou. “There is more than enough evidence to convict him.”

  The anger surged in Lou, and he reached behind him for the gun he was hiding. His arm rose, aiming the gun at us. Atticus pushed me behind him, shielding me. I gripped his arm, watching Lou.

  What were we going to do now? I was a liability, slowing him down, and we couldn’t run.

  “You don’t want to do this,” Atticus said.

  But Lou was past reasoning.

  His dark eyes were trained on me. “Yeah, I do. Ending you both would feel so good after the shit you’ve put me through. Using your money to fuck with me. But I’d be satisfied if it was just her.” Lou’s lips twitched up. “If you don’t want to die, move so I can end the bitch.”

  Atticus clenched his fist, not taking the bait Lou was throwing.

  “I already told you—you’re not going to touch her again.”

  The next second felt like an eternity as Atticus turned, his eyes meeting mine before he pushed on my arms, throwing me back away from him. I tripped and fell to the floor, tumbling before stopping against the wall. The commotion caused Lou to freeze in confusion, and Atticus took the opportunity to rush him.

  I was no longer in the line of fire, but Atticus was. Years of sports and training made him faster and more agile than Lou, and he had Lou’s arm up in the air.

  The gun went off and a scream left me, terrified Atticus had been shot. They fell to the ground, both fighting for possession of the gun. Atticus straddled Lou, his weight holding Lou down as they struggled. The gun went off again and Atticus’s arm whipped out, sending the gun flying across the room.

  Then, a force I’d only seen once before took over Atticus. He pulled his arm back and slammed his fist into Lou’s face with such force I swear I could hear bones crunching.

  Over and over, he hit until Lou’s struggles died down.

  Atticus was breathing hard as he stood, his eyes still watching Lou while turning toward me. Blood dripped from his fist, but it wasn’t the one he’d been hitting with.

  Fear swept through me and I rushed forward, watching the adrenaline drain from Atticus. He started to drop, and I couldn’t hold him. We fell to our knees, and tears filled my eyes as I cupped his face.

  “Look at me,” I cried.

  He blinked, his eyes unfocused, and shook his head, trying to clear it. Red pooled around him, and a sob left me.

  “Oph…elia,” he struggled to say. His forehead pressed against mine, and he finally focused on me. “I love you.”

  Time moved in slow motion and terror ripped through me, slicing my heart in half watching his eyes roll back as all his weight collapsed down to the floor.

  “Atticus!”

  Seconds later the room was rushed by men in suits, but my attention was focused on Atticus. They were simply a movement in my periphery as I fought the break happening inside. Someone took hold of my arms and pulled me off. I cried out, fighting against whoever had me as I was forced to watch them load Atticus onto a stretcher, a pool of blood beneath him.

  Everything was in a strange combination of slow motion with fast-forward moments with the volume off. Suddenly, for the first time in days, my arms were freed from the zip ties and an arm swept under my legs, lifting me off my feet. When I looked up, Michael’s familiar green eyes stared down at me. His mouth was moving, but I couldn’t hear anything.

  The bounce of each step up the stairs jostled my injuries, and pain began to seep back into my senses. The bright light shining in from large windows was blinding.

  I cringed against the sun as we exited, people still flooding in. Black cars and SUVs parked up the street at both ends, and in a parking lot across the street a strobe-like effect was created on the ground by the large blades of one of the de Loughrey helicopters sitting in the center. They were loading Atticus in, and we were headed right for them.

  We loaded in, but Michael kept me in his arms as the helicopter lifted off the ground seconds later. I couldn’t keep my eyes off Atticus. I wanted to go to him, to throw myself at him, but they were working on him, putting a tourniquet high up on his arm.

  My whole body shook as I was transfixed with each slight rise and fall of his chest.

  We landed on the roof of a hospital minutes later, and then they were off, forcing me to watch Atticus disappear into the elevator. Michael carried me over to the elevator, and we got on with a guard.

  We entered a floor of the hospital that appeared empty. I was seated into an awaiting wheelchair, the sudden loss of touch causing my body to flood with cold, and my teeth began chattering.

  Someone approached us, but I continued to look down the hall, searching for him.

  “I think she’s in shock,” Michael said, the first sound to penetrate since Atticus’s last words.

  Shock?

  The doctor bent down in front of me, his brown eyes meeting mine, and I blinked. “Mrs. de Loughrey, we need to get you evaluated.”

  “Evans,” I said, correcting him.

  His eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

  “We aren’t married yet. It’s Evans.”

  Everything came flooding back and a scream ripped from me, letting loose all of my suppressed anguish.

  Footsteps sounded behind me, and suddenly Penelope was in front of me. She slipped her hand in mine and squeezed. It calmed my heart just knowing she was there, even though I didn’t really know her.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” the doctor asked.

  I nodded. The shaking in my other hand stilled when warmth surrounded it. “We’re coming,” Genevieve said from my other side.

  I glanced up at my two soon-to-be sisters-in-law and gripped their hands. “How?”

  “We’ve been on high alert. We’re here for you.”

  The doctor almost seemed like he wanted to argue, but then looked at the family and decided against it.

  We entered into a single room and before I even sat on the bed, multiple photos were taken of my extensive injuries before my clothes were stripped and put into evidence bags. More photos were taken before I was poked, prodded, and scraped before the doctor was even able to examine me. I didn’t even have the energy to be embarrassed standing in the middle of the room of half a dozen people with only my underwear on.

  The doctor grimaced as he looked me over. My arms were covered in dried blood, and there was no way to tell if it was mine or Atticus’s.

  “Mostly not mine,” I whispered.

  “There is a shower in there. Why don’t you get cleaned up so we can see what we’re dealing with.”

  I nodded and, with the help of nurses, moved into the bathroom.

  “Let me help,” one of them said with a small smile.

  I nodded before stepping into the warm spray. I cried out as raw skin was scrubbed and sealed wounds reopened. Once the torture was over, I stood under the spray trying to relax a little.

  When I exited I felt a lot better, despite my weakened state, but was suddenly aware I no longer had any clothing.

  “Jack brought this,” Penelope said, holding out one of my bags I’d left at La Magnifique.

  “Thank you,” I said before digging in for some panties and a sports bra.

  “You can get dressed once the examination is done,” the doctor said, signaling for me to lie down.

  More prodding was done and I cried out a few times, especially when he pushed on the developing bruises on my stomach from Lou’s kicks. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it, but he’d also never been that angry before.

  After multiple tests, it was determined that the worst was a minor concussion. The kicks to my stomach left the area sore and painful, and contributed to my level of shock, but there was no internal bleeding. Everything else was superficial and only a few stitches were needed. I was band
aged up, given IV fluids and antibiotics, and allowed to leave my room.

  “You should rest,” Penelope said in protest as she and Genevieve helped me to pull on some yoga pants, a tank top, and a loose hoodie.

  I shook my head. “I need to know.”

  Her brow furrowed and she grabbed the wheelchair, pushing it over. “You’re going to sit here.”

  When we arrived in the waiting area, Hamilton and Rhys stood, their eyes wide as they looked me over.

  “Anything?” I asked.

  They shook their heads.

  Every minute, the elevator pinged when a new family member arrived. As I looked around, I noted a lack of staff and other patients. In fact, the level wasn’t laid out like any hospital I’d ever seen. For one, the waiting room was open to the rooms.

  “It’s the de Loughrey wing,” Genevieve said, seeming to note my confusion.

  “Wing?”

  She nodded. “This section is for our family, and our family only.”

  With all that I knew, it shouldn’t have surprised me.

  I stared at the loops of the carpet, watching the expensively clad feet move back and forth against the tightly woven blue and grey. There were words, but nothing I could process. Raised voices and cries broke through, but still I couldn’t make out what they were about.

  My chest clenched and I let the numbness sink in, losing focus on everything around me. I stared down at my hands and the deep red that still stained the creases in my knuckles and around my cuticles.

  What was taking them so long? The tears that had stayed away began sliding down my cheeks.

  I tried to understand the reality of the past few days—the truths that were revealed—all in an effort to stave off the panic of not being beside him.

  I didn’t know where he’d been shot, only that there was a lot of blood.

  Atticus had been shot.

  A fresh wave of agony ripped through me, and I started to hyperventilate.

  “Hey, hey,” a familiar voice said as arms embraced me. “He’s going to be okay. We have the best doctors taking care of him.”

  It was Penelope again, and I welcomed her warmth, but it did nothing to assuage my guilt.

  “It’s my fault.”

  “You’re damn right it is!” Vera hissed, her shiny heels coming to a stop in front of me.

  “Mother!” Penelope admonished.

  “Michael is her bodyguard,” Charles boomed out, gaining the attention of the whole room. “He should have been with her.”

  I froze. “What did you say?”

  Charles sneered down at me. “You really are useless. Michael should have stayed beside you. That is his sole job.”

  “The other part.”

  “What other part?” Penelope asked.

  “The bodyguard part.”

  Vera scoffed. “Did you really think my son would let you go out on your own without protection?”

  I shook my head. “But he’s a driver.”

  “All of our bodyguards are drivers,” Vera clarified. “Are you so naive that you believed we ran around without security all the time? We are de Loughreys, Ophelia. We are always with security. The fact that you never noticed only proves how much you need them.”

  My stomach dropped as I tried to process what they were saying. I knew there was security, but I never saw them, so I never thought much about it. But often when Atticus and I were together, there was another man, Damien.

  They fit so well into the background, I never noticed they were there.

  “Mrs. de Loughrey?” a doctor called as he entered.

  An entire room of heads snapped in his direction, and I stood as he approached. His eyes widened as he looked me over.

  “How is he?” I asked. Penelope slipped her arms around my arm, helping to steady me. It calmed my heart just knowing she was there.

  “He’s doing well. The bullet passed through his bicep, barely missing the brachial artery and grazing his humerus. He was incredibly lucky. Millimeters and he would not have made it before the helicopter arrived here.”

  “All that blood?” I asked as fresh tears streamed down my cheeks.

  He nodded. “Smaller arteries were severed, causing a lot of blood loss. He went into shock. We were able to stop the bleeding and give him a blood transfusion.”

  “When can we see him?” Vera asked.

  “Soon.” He gave a nod and walked away.

  Relief flooded me and I looked to Penelope, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She gave me a small smile. “He’s too stubborn to die anyway.”

  Charles stepped forward and loomed over me, his jaw tight as he stared down at me with eyes full of contempt. “This is all your fault! If he hadn’t met you, my son would not have been shot. You are unfit for this family. Leave. Now.”

  It was a shock to my system, his anger reminding me of Lou. If I hadn’t backed down against Lou, there was no way I would let Charles push me. I glared back at him. “Never. I don’t give a shit what you think of me, because you’re nothing but a bully. You bully your children, your wife, and countless others, but you don’t have that power over me. Only Atticus can remove me from his side.”

  His lip curled up in a snarl, and his arm swung back. I flinched, my arms instinctively raising to protect myself as they’d done for many years—and many times of late—but there was no impact. When I looked up, Silas held his uncle’s wrist in his hand.

  “If you strike her, there is nothing anyone can do for you when he finds out. You want to blame her for her circumstance without even noticing that one movement had her cowering and folding in on herself. What that man did was not her fault. She is a victim.”

  I stared at Silas, his blue eyes cold and dark as he glared at Charles. My interaction with the twins was mostly a glance from across a room, so I was shocked that he came to my aid. I only recognized him as Silas due to the length of his hair being longer than his brother’s.

  Charles yanked his arm from Silas’s grip, and as he did, Silas moved to stand in front of me, his brother following suit, blocking me from Charles.

  With a growl of rage Charles stormed out, the door banging in its frame.

  Once he was gone, Silas turned toward me. “Are you all right?”

  I looked up at him and nodded. “You’re intuitive, Silas. Thank you,” I said.

  His hollow eyes stared back at me, his expression blank. “I observe. Besides, I saw the video feed. He didn’t.”

  “Video feed? You saw it?”

  He nodded. “Many of us were in Atticus’s office after it was discovered you were missing, when the link came in.”

  “You showed great bravery,” Atlas said.

  “With all the attempted kidnappings and successful ones the family has dealt with, it was surprising to find it was your own family that betrayed you,” Rhys said.

  I froze as I stared at him. “Kidnappings? Multiple?”

  “Did you finish the binder?” Genevieve asked as she stepped up next to me.

  I nodded. “Yes, but I don’t remember anything about that. It would have stood out.” Even in all the de Loughrey books I’d purchased, only mentioned one from the thirties.

  “I don’t think she has access to the family files,” Rhys said from behind me. “They have information her binder doesn’t cover.”

  “Jack should have set it up,” Hamilton said.

  “Yeah, but if he or Atticus failed to tell her, it can’t be helped,” Georgiana said.

  “Maybe Atticus wanted to shield her. To keep her completely to himself for as long as possible,” Silas said.

  Everyone looked to Silas.

  “The dark prince speaks truth,” Rhys said.

  “Don’t make me punch you,” Atlas said, turning his bored expression to his brother.

  The space around me was getting quite crowded, but for the first time I was seeing them in a new light. They were the same as any family, and they cared about each other, even if they weren’t the best at expressing
it.

  “Come,” Penelope said as Georgiana took my other hand. “You need to sit back down.”

  An hour later, the doctor returned and ushered us down the hall. When we reached his room what I now knew to be security flanked the door to Atticus’s room and lined the halls. Some of the faces were familiar, but I noticed a lack of Michael and Damien.

  The hallway was noisy, filled with more than a dozen de Loughreys.

  It was a fight to get in the door, but whoever was pushing me made a path to the front.

  Tears pooled in my eyes as I looked at him lying on the bed. His brow was scrunched, and he glared at everyone in the room.

  “You’re too noisy. Everyone but Ophelia, get out,” Atticus yelled, his head falling back against the pillow.

  There was an uproar of protest, but his steely gaze halted them, conveying that there was no room for argument. Once the door closed, our eyes met and I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.

  “Why did you do that?” Now, I was the one near hysterics as I sobbed into my bandaged hands.

  My mind was still clouded and my body exhausted, but I still couldn’t stand to see her cry like that.

  “Come up,” I said, holding out my arm, inviting her to take the space next to me.

  She shook her head, her brow furrowed. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You’re hurting my feelings and making me angry by not getting your ass next to mine right this instant.”

  She jumped and nodded before gingerly, standing up and shuffling toward the edge of the bed. Gauze wrappings peeked out from the cuff of her hoodie, and various other bandages and butterfly stitches dappled her swollen face. I scooted over a bit, cringing against the spike of pain in my left arm. Her tear-filled eyes stared at me as she climbed on.

  “Don’t think about it. Lie down. Now,” I ground out.

  Once she settled in my arms, I let out a sigh, my body relaxing. I leaned down, ignoring the jolt from the tug on my arm, and breathed her in. She was with me. She was safe. We were fine.

  “Now tell me—why the fuck did you leave me?”