Queens wouldn’t go home.
Nash has been acting like a little bitch and refused to deal with her.
His exact words were ‘Clean your own mess, King.’
So here I am standing with Queens in front of her car.
The rain soaks us both.
So be it, because there’s no way she’s going inside.
Elsa has already been distrustful of me without adding Queens into the mix.
Since the pool incident, I’ve been slowly building back her trust, but everything will be destroyed if Queens is involved.
I can handle it when Elsa lies to herself. I can handle it when she tries to be politically correct, but I can’t have any of that if she completely pulls the fuck away from me.
“You said you’ll fix it.” Queens stomps her feet. “You promised, King.”
“I promised you fuck.”
“But you said —”
“I said nothing. You assumed everything yourself.” I stare down at her. “The game was fun while it lasted, but I’m not playing anymore.”
“You’re not playing?” She huffs. “So when it’s to your benefit, you’re all in, but when it’s not, you just drop it?”
“Exactly. Smarten up, Queens. All what you’re doing is a temporary solution.”
“That’s none of your fucking business.” She grinds her teeth. “I knew you’d change your mind because of that little bitch.”
I push into her and she flinches against the side of her car.
“Watch it. If you call her that one more time, I won’t let you be, Queens.”
“You can do fuck to me, King,” she snarls even though her eyes are glimmering. “You know why? Because Uncle Jonathan is on my side.”
My left eye twitches. I resist the urge to bang her head against the hood of the car.
It’s because of her that Elsa has changed. If she wasn’t being a nosy busy-body, Elsa wouldn’t have slipped from between my fingers the way she did.
Queens should be fucking thankful I value Nash enough not to destroy her.
However, my patience has a limit.
Queens is playing a bigger game than her. Yes, I entertained her idea. Yes, I liked the challenge while it lasted, but not anymore.
It’s time she knows her fucking place.
“How about Nash, then?” I ask in a neutral voice.
Her face contorts. I smirk.
People with fucking weaknesses shouldn’t be going into battle.
“Whose side do you think he’s on?” I ask. “If he finds out your little games, who do you think he’ll lash out on? Spoiler alert. It won’t be me.”
“Don’t you dare, King.”
“Then fucking disappear, Queens.” I loom over her, squaring my shoulders. “This is your final warning. If you threaten what’s mine, I’ll destroy you until there’s nothing left for Nash to pick up.”
Although it’s raining, I can see the tears shining in her eyes.
Since she doesn’t cry, this should mean that my message got through.
I’m about to pull back when a small hand pushes me away. I didn’t hear her approach — and it’s not because of the rain.
Elsa’s blue eyes are glassed over.
They’re blackening and darkening on Queens.
Like the other time, she’s quiet.
So fucking quiet.
Since I was a child, I was attuned to small noises. I couldn’t sleep all night because of the small sounds coming from the trees’ leaves.
It should be impossible that I didn’t hear her approach.
For the second time.
I’m still studying Elsa and her stiffened body language when she slams her fist into Queens’ face.
The latter clutches her cheek, mouth hanging open when Elsa punches her in the chest. Queens shrieks and wraps both her arms around her midsection.
Elsa grips her by the collar of her shirt. “I told you to stay the fuck away from what’s mine!”
And then she goes to punch her again.
Queens tries to fight her off, but she’s like a helpless toddler in front of Elsa’s strength.
Elsa’s brute, subconscious strength.
My body tightens as I watch her closely.
That posture. That same fucking posture.
A black halo surrounds my head, and I can’t see anything past it.
No. That’s a lie.
I can see a little boy.
The welts on his skin.
The darkness in his surroundings.
The fear in his eyes.
The same fear that’s now on Queens’ face as she bends over in front of Elsa’s assault.
I grab her by the arm and pull her back so harshly, she slams straight into my chest.
She tries to fight me off, her hands still pointing in Queens’ direction. The latter is crouched on the wet ground, coughing and trembling under the rain.
Elsa isn’t seeing that. She’s not seeing anything except for the black rage covering her vision.
Just like them.
She’s just like them.
No. She’s not.
This is Elsa. My Elsa.
And no fucking one will take her away from me. Not even herself.
I wrap my hand around her neck and squeeze.
Her arms stop flailing about. She blinks a few times. When she finally looks at me – like really looks at me – her gaze fills with horror as if she’s just realising what she has done.
“Don’t go there again,” I whisper.
If she does, I’ll have no choice but to follow her. She’ll hate what I become like when I do.
She nods once even though her eyes are lost, I pull her into me and wrap my arms around her back as she hides her head in my chest.
For a few seconds, we stand there as the rain beats down on us.
“Make her go,” Elsa murmurs in my chest. “Make her go away.”
“Leave,” I order Queens.
She stands and opens her mouth to say something, but then her gaze strays behind me and her mouth falls open.
Her bright blue eyes widen with fear.
Pure, unhinged fear.
Still staring behind me, she opens her car door with trembling hands and slips inside. And then, she’s speeding out of the driveway.
Still cradling Elsa close to my chest, I glance behind me.
Nash stands at the entrance with both hands in his pockets.
A rare cruel smirk lifts his lips.
