[tw: abuse]
In the back of the room, my mother lies on the ground, curled into a tight ball. I can hear nothing but her anguished sobs of pain, her soul ravaged by the shattered beer bottle that struck her. I've been hurt too, the skin on my cheeks burning from the humiliating slap I received for trying to comfort her.
The face of the man who calls himself my father looms over me, his voice a low, angry growl with words that ring in my ears like a song. "Are those tears, Alexander? You should be a real man. Men don't cry. God, you'll never amount to anything."
My arm rubs over my eyes to wipe my tears away, trying to appear tougher in front of the drunk bastard. "That's not true," I whisper back weakly, my small frame trembling. "I can be good. I'll protect her. I'll save her. I'll be the son you've always wanted, I promise."
A malicious laugh shakes me to my core, and I'm suddenly lifted up by my neck. "You'll never protect anybody." My father's voice is harsh and cold. "You're a disappointment to this family. You're weak. Just like your whore of a mother."
The words cut into my flesh like sharp daggers, piercing through my heart and causing even more tears to stream down my cheeks. I try to suppress my cries, but it's no use. Sniffles turn into sobs, and the sobs turn into gasps for air as I try to escape from my father's cruel grip.
₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊ ˚✧ ﾟ.
I want to scream. To get back at that bastard for everything he had ever done to me. The familiar sound of choking filled the air, though I wasn't quite sure what was going on.
Until I heard her voice.
"Alex—" Elena is struggling to break free from my hold on her throat. She is pinned down underneath me, and she's struggling to breathe properly. I'm hurting her.
The flash of pure terror in her eyes is enough to snap me back to reality. My body jerks back almost immediately, and I start to regain consciousness of my surroundings. It seems that in my sleep, I've accidentally harmed Elena.
She reaches out to touch me, but I keep my distance. With a frown, she begins to explain what happened. "I felt you tossing and turning in your sleep. You were having a nightmare, so I tried to wake you up, but—"
"I'm sorry for hurting you," I blurt out, cutting her off. I should've never let my guard down. Falling asleep on the job is bad enough, but harming the queen? Unforgivable.
In a rush, I stand up from the bed and grab my suit jacket from where it was sprawled upon the armchair in the corner. It's still early, so that leaves me enough time to sneak out and get ready before Marco arrives.
Before leaving the room, I look back at Elena. Her expression looks sad, like she's disappointed about how things played out, but I can tell she understands why I need my own space. She gives me a slight nod, and I take that as my cue to leave.
₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊ ˚✧ ﾟ.
It's been seven hours since Marco arrived—each one of them feels like hell. With his new status as the king of Italy, he's only gotten more entitled. He has no respect for anyone and no lack of boundaries, judging by the number of unfortunate women he's already tried to get in bed with.
As of right now, I'm being forced to escort him to a gala hosted by Pierre L'Avoir to welcome Italy's new king and queen to France.
It's strange that I have to refer to Marco as a king now. He doesn't act the part of a true king at all. More like a self-absorbed tyrant. With Elena, it's different. I feel comfortable calling her a queen because I always knew she was fit to be one someday. I just wish she had the full power she deserved.
Not even a second has passed since we've entered the room, and Marco immediately attracts the attention of the press. Between his flashy suits and pristine reputation, the public adores him. It's a shame they don't know what goes on behind closed doors.
Elena, on the other hand, tries to sneak off without anyone seeing. Her beauty isn't to go unnoticed, though. Paparazzi surround her, so I step in to block them all off. "This is a private event; no pictures will be taken at this time," I inform them.
I gesture to the hotel's security team positioned at the corner of the room, and they quickly take over the scene. All press figures are forced to leave, and there's finally a sense of peace among the crowd. The guards take this as their cue to leave the room.
"Good evening, everyone," Pierre calls out, holding a wine glass between his thumb and his middle finger. "I'm so glad you all could make it. Please welcome our special guests all the way from Italy—King Marco and Queen Elena."
Everyone in the room rises to their feet in applause. With a subtle smile and slight inclination of her head, Elena gives a small curtsy, while Marco gives a more over-the-top half-bow. The moment of civility is broken, however, when Marco reaches for Elena's hand, gripping it tightly and pulling her next to him.
I hate the way he touches her so casually, treating her like she's his possession. She doesn't belong to him. She's mine, and I'll be damned if anybody tries to take her from me.
Quickly, I move to stand in between them. "Some ladies on the other side look very excited to get to meet you, Your Majesty. Maybe you should go talk to them before you end up causing me to make a scene," I whisper lowly in Marco's ear, almost issuing a threat.
His eyes flare with disdain, but he immediately suppresses his emotions and lets out a scoff of laughter. "Jealous, hm?" he taunts. "Don't worry, she's all yours. For now." He shoots Elena a pointed look before walking away to talk to some of the young women who had been admiring him for the last few minutes.
Idiot.
Swallowing my resentment for the time being, I turn my attention back to Elena. The look of relief on her face only adds fuel to the fire burning inside me. She doesn't deserve to be treated like that. No one does.
I'm about to ask her if she's alright when someone else decides to speak up, interrupting me before I can even get the words out of my mouth. "Your Majesty!" a bubbly voice exclaims.
When I turn around, the blonde woman from the lobby comes into view. She has a radiant smile on her face, and best of all, the green-eyed menace isn't with her this time.
"Analia." Elena offers the girl a warm smile. "That's your name, right? Sorry if I got it wrong, I have a shit memo—" The queen stops herself. A look of embarrassment flashes on her face, as if she realized she accidentally cursed in front of a stranger. "Pardon my language."
Analia responds with a lighthearted chuckle. "It's alright; you don't have to be so formal around me," she assures with a playful wink. "Professionalism is boring anyway."
It seems that the blonde's words have soothed the queen. Her posture is more relaxed now, and her eyes light up with a spark of her usual mischievousness that she keeps hidden away from the public. In a way, they're alike, so I'm not surprised that the two have gotten along quickly.
While the women talk to each other, I catch a glimpse of Pierre walking up behind Analia. He comes up close to her, almost in a flirtatious manner. "Mon cher, you look beautiful," he says politely.
Analia smiles and expresses her gratitude for him before he moves on to Elena. The dark-haired man reaches for the queen's hand and kisses it before complimenting her as well. "Stunning as always, ma reine."
For some reason, him putting his hands on her doesn't sit right with me. In fact, I have the urge to hurt any man in general who gets close to Elena. I've never been a jealous person, yet I feel oddly possessive over her.
The feeling in the pit of my stomach washes away, though. This Pierre guy seems harmless—perhaps a bit on the flirtatious side, but he doesn't pose any threat at all to me. Not like that demon standing across the room.
"Ana, do you know where Lev is?" I hear Pierre ask.
Speak of the devil.
They all turn around to spot Levi near the entrance. He's leaning back against the wall with his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants. Three girls surround him, but his indifferent expression shows that he isn't interested in them. He might just be keeping the women around for the sake of his own entertainment.
I've done my research on Levi Sterling after learning his name in the lobby. Even with the lack of time I've had, I've still managed to find enough information to deem him a danger to the queen.
There's not much—I'll give him that. He's a very private man. His past, however, intrigues me. He's not just the CEO of one of the world's richest and most controversial corporations. There's something dark, maybe even sinister, about him.
I feel a sudden nudge on my shoulder. "Alex?" Elena whispers softly, her melodic voice bringing me back to focus.
I really need to stop getting lost in my thoughts.
The queen's eyes burn through my soul as I look down at her. The concern in her gaze is evident, and it's only then that I realize how distracted I really am. I've spent most of the night caught in my own head, unable to fully concentrate on the evening.
"You've been quiet all night. Is everything alright?" she asks.
The truth is that nothing is okay at all. That's what I want to tell her, but I don't want to get her even more caught up in my problems. "Just a little zoned out," I mumble, hoping she doesn't start prying about what's on my mind.
She doesn't seem to believe me, but she doesn't pry about it either. She nods quietly and turns her head, focusing back on the conversation she was having with Analia.
I notice a man, who appears to be a poorly dressed guest, approaching us. Something about him doesn't sit well with me, but I don't know whether it's the messiness of his appearance or the miserable look in his dull eyes.
My body goes rigid, but I force myself to take a breath. I don't want to jump to any conclusions, especially at a public event. After that violent scene with the photographer yesterday, I think it would be best if I laid low.
The stranger stops at Analia's side, and an eerie smile crosses his face. "Well, well, Lia. I wasn't expecting to see you here," he chuckles. "Where's your sister? Don't you two usually travel together?"
A forced smile crosses the bubbly blonde's face. She seems embarrassed that her conversation with Pierre and Elena was interrupted, particularly by whoever this guy is. However, she turns to face the man while keeping her composure.
Impressive.
"Mr. Redder." There was a hint of a warning in Analia's voice. She was definitely on high alert around this man, which made me more curious about who he could be. "I'd love to catch up with you, but I'm very busy right now. Maybe we can—"
"Enough of your bullshit," the man sneers, roughly grabbing her arm. As soon as he touches her, my instincts immediately lead me to grab Elena and pull her behind me so she remains safe. "I don't care how many people are watching us right now. Give him what he wants, or he'll expose the one thing that could ruin your life."
Him?
Action is taken by Pierre, who quickly gets in between them only to be shoved out of the way. "This isn't any of your business, L'Avoir. Stay out of matters that don't involve you."
The French man rolls up his sleeves and clenches his fists. "It was my business the second you decided to threaten someone at my party. Leave her alone, you bastard."
The other man, Redder, looks fed up. He tries to blow a punch to Pierre, but I stop him before the problem can get even more out of hand. "You need to leave," I order. "The second time I have to tell you, it'll get physical."
Redder scoffs with a malicious look on his face, and his eyes land on me for a moment. "You don't scare me, pretty boy. Ain't you the queen's bodyguard? I heard she keeps you on a tight leash. Must be tiring taking care of a royal brat every single d—"
I knock him to the ground before he can finish his ridiculous sentence. Fuck this staying-low bullshit. No one is allowed to speak about my princess like that unless they want to spend the rest of their life in a wheelchair.
The bastard grunts in pain as he pulls himself back up, and I stare him down, my face a mask of rage. "You have two seconds to crawl your pathetic ass out of here before I make you sorry for ever disrespecting those two women," I threaten lowly.
He's seething with hatred for me, clenching and unclenching his teeth. But no matter how angry he is, even he is smart enough to know he can't do a damn thing without getting in trouble. "Fine," he finally murmurs, standing up and pushing past the crowd that had gathered the moment they heard the commotion.
Some of the people scattered as they saw Redder stumble out of the room, while others remained in an attempt to possibly see the spectacle continue—though I don't know how that would happen considering he just left.
Pierre looks on in awe, stunned at what just played out. "Holy shit," he mumbles under his breath. "You're one hell of a bodyguard, man."
"He is," Elena agrees, smiling at me proudly. Nobody ever looked at me like that in my life other than my mother. The queen's approval was the thing I never knew I needed, and it made me feel good. Way better than how I'd been feeling before.
"I'd say he's worth his paycheck," the French man adds, amused. "The look on that bastard's face when he realized he was in over his head is something else. And you almost knocked him out cold?" His eyebrows rose.
While I appreciate Pierre's continuous praise, I decide to shrug it off. After all, I was just doing my job. No one deserves to be treated like that, and it's my duty to protect not only Elena but any other innocent person who is in harm's way.
That brings me back to Analia. I'm about to ask if she's okay, but when I turn to her, she's already rushing off. Pierre follows after her shortly, probably to check up on her.
"Bodyguard!" Marco whisper-shouts, ruining the moment like always. He storms up to me and Elena, and it looks like steam is about to blow out of his nostrils from how angry he is. "What the hell was that? Do you want me to receive bad publicity or something? You're on thin ice."
It truly baffles me how one could be so careless and self-absorbed. His 'wife' and an important guest both encountered a possible threat, and he's worried about his reputation of all things.
"You can't be serious right now," Elena interjects, stepping in to defend me. "He actually did something unlike you. How are you ever going to be a good king if you can't even handle some lousy scumbag? You're truly useless."
Damn. I could get used to her putting Marco in his place.
He's furious at her comment, but he knows that he can't lash out at her without causing another scene. Besides, he'd have to keep his composure in order to avoid looking like a complete and utterly incompetent idiot who can't protect his wife.
"Watch your manners, princesa," he grits out quietly as not to disturb anyone around us. "I don't even know why I keep you around if all you ever do is criticize me."
The last part of what he says fuels another wave of rage inside of me. He's coming real close to crossing a line he can't go back from, but for now, I'll let the queen take control. She knows how to handle herself.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Is your ego that fragile?" Elena asks with the sarcasm and sass I grew to love, narrowing her eyes. "And don't get things twisted. I could destroy your life within seconds, but I won't do that yet. You're pushing me to my limit, though."
I suppress a grin. That's my girl.
Marco raises a brow, clearly infuriated by her remarks. Even though he's past his last straw, he knows he can't risk making a fool out of himself by throwing a childish tantrum. "We are leaving. Now," he demands, gesturing for her to come with him.
Marco's tone angers me as usual. But unfortunately, I couldn't afford to lose my temper at the moment. I keep my cool, but my body tenses, holding back from snapping and breaking his neck—along with his pathetic ego and shitty attitude.
"Now?" the queen asks, her tone even more snarky than before. "You are honestly the lamest excuse of a man I've ever met. I can't believe my father chose you to be my husband."
It pisses me off that she has to deal with this kind of crap from him, but I respect her for dealing with the prick. No doubt she's used to his tantrums and knows exactly how to push his buttons, but today she decided to go on the offensive. Her wit, sass, and confidence are always a major turn-on.
Although now is probably not the time for that.
The two continue to quietly bicker back and forth while I just watch. If I get any more involved in the argument than I already am, the outcome will just be worse. Marco doesn't know how to stop.
Besides, if the heated exchange continues, they'll both just end up being tired. It's better for them to just drop the manner out of exhaustion anyway. The king has a lot of fire in him, but Elena has more.
Fire..wait, what the hell is that smell?
I notice that there's something else, something more potent, in the air. I glance around the room, looking for the source, and it's not hard to find it. It smells like smoke. And it's thick, almost like—
"Fire!" someone screams, pointing to the ceiling. Several people's heads turn to the smoke-filled ceiling, and then it hits them.
All at once, screams of horror fill the room, and all hell breaks loose. People shriek and scatter in every direction, running around like madmen, as if they were being chased by wild beasts. The smoke alarms are late, but they do go off eventually, causing even more panic.
Some guests flee to the nearest exits, while others cough and breathe in the smoke as they look for loved ones. It seems that within a few minutes, an alarming scent has turned into a full-blown emergency.
I have to act fast, so the first thing I do is pull Elena by the arm and lead her out of the room. I couldn't care less about Marco—I'm responsible for the queen. Not the king.
Since the elevator is most likely inaccessible, I drag the queen to the emergency stairs. To my dismay, we can't get through the horde of people in the hallways. I push through the people as best as I can, but it's no use. There has to be at least a hundred people in this one area alone.
Suddenly, part of the ceiling falls down, and the flames come with it. The guests only become more frantic, beginning to tackle each other just to get to the exit first. I'm ashamed to say I'm one of those people.
My instincts kick in right away. It's not going to end well, and I'm not about to stay here and find out. I have to get Elena out of here, no matter what the hell it takes.
So I shove my way through the mass, not caring if I have to step on a few feet or accidentally elbow someone in the ribs. The heat is starting to rise at this point too, and there's not enough time for me to think rationally.
I have to do this.
We finally make our way to the stairwell, only to find more guests trying to escape the burning hotel. The smoke, flames, and panicking guests make it nearly impossible to move forward, and every second feels like a lifetime.
I try to keep a clear head, but my heart is racing, and I'm sweating buckets. The heat is unbearable, and it's only getting hotter by the second.
As if things couldn't get any worse, there's another loud crashing sound, followed by a woman's cries for help. A large section of the ceiling collapses once again. I push Elena out of the way just in time, but the falling debris strikes my arm, burning it in the process.
The sting of the heat registers in my brain, and the pain shoots through my nerves, nearly causing me to drop to my knees from the intensity. I grit my teeth and clench my fist into a tight ball, and the anger rises quickly, but I have to stay cool.
Smoke completely fills the room, along with the scent of burning plastic and gasoline. It's thick enough to feel like sandpaper rubbing against the inside of my lungs. Every breath feels like a dagger straight to the chest, and the only thing my brain can focus on is getting her out of here before the worst occurs.
This gets my adrenaline rush into gear.
With this new burst of energy, I haul down the stairs with all of my strength, dragging Elena with me. Even though I might be a little too aggressive in how I'm handling her, I really need to get her to safety. That's my only priority.
We reach the main floor, and I waste no time in shoving people out of the way so that I can get us out of the burning hotel. Guilt consumes me with every person that trips onto the ground because of me, but I'll deal with those feelings later.
Cool air hits me in a flash once I make it outside with Elena holding onto me. Sirens are heard in the distance, and I look up to see almost all of the floors of the hotel being engulfed in flames.
What the hell caused this?
Beside me, the queen coughs and gasps for the fresh air. I want to make sure she's alright, but the realization of my burnt arm comes back to me now that my mind isn't preoccupied with other things.
I hiss in sharply and throw off my crisped suit jacket to find that the debris had burned through my sleeve and caused severe damage to my forearm. I clutch the area mindlessly in hopes of relieving some pain.
"Alex?" Elena calls out, and I spin my head in her direction. Her eyes are wide, and she's staring right at my arm. The one thing I didn't want was for her to be concerned about me, and I've failed at that too.
"Don't worry about me, Princess." I try to assure her confidently, but my voice comes out strained. "I'm fine. I know how to take care of myself."
Elena's brows furrow, and she takes a step toward me, her hands balled into fists. "You're hurt," she states matter-of-factly. "Sit."
I attempt to protest, my jaw set in determination. I wasn't going to let her worry about me, even if it meant being obstinate. "No, I'm—"
"That was an order, not a question."
The tone of her voice. The seriousness of her expression. I don't know which one it was, but what I do know is that I was immediately silenced. I listen to her, finding a seat on a bench while paramedics and firefighters come rushing in the background.
Elena calls some paramedics over, and they do a quick assessment of the situation. After determining that I have a second-degree burn, they immediately get to work on me. At first, they insist that I need to be taken to a burn center, but I convince them that I don't need that and all of the equipment should be in the ambulances.
One lady wraps some gauze around my forearm while I analyze the scene before my eyes. People are getting carried out on stretchers, and others are going through all types of emotions.
To the right, I see Analia. The blonde appears to be unharmed, but she does look quite shocked, just like everyone else. To the left, Marco unfortunately came out unscathed. How he managed to do that himself is beneath me.
And out of the corner of my eye, I spot something in the alleyway. Someone's back turned to me—their hair is dark, and I can't really make out who they are from this far. But I do notice something. Their sleeves are covered in blood, and there's a lighter in their hand.
And that's when I realized that this fire was no accident.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・
authors note: woah hi guys im back??? who missed me 🤗 also im dedicating this chapter to scarlett bc i love her okay bye