♡ Odette's POV ♡
After all the chaos was sorted through, all of the remaining royals and I were ushered along a passageway to something that resembled a small guesthouse, my sharp hearing picking up someone calling it the royal bunker to keep everyone safe in. So that's what Zayn meant when he said 'the bunker'.
Looking back, I'm not quite sure how I managed to walk to the bunker, but I had to have made it somehow, because I remember collapsing in a corner of the bunker, not saying a word.
I couldn't do anything. Delia's body as she fell kept creeping into my vision, haunting me. Blood was everywhere, making my own run cold. I noticed a small cut of my own from when I tripped had been created on my arm. I held my arm out to the side, away from my hunched figure. I didn't look at it, mentally severing it from my healthy body. I didn't want to see the scarlet droplets that fell from it, the sight reminding me too much of the blood that had stained Delia's golden dress as the assassin's bullet cut through her.
I was shaking tremendously too, my body unconsciously reacting to both the cold temperature inside the bunker and my paranoid mind. I must have been quite the sight, because royal servants would stare and seem to debate on whether or not to help me before leaving. I must look like a train wreck, I thought to myself before laughing. This, of course, didn't help the servants help me, quite the opposite.
My arm was still bleeding quite a lot when a familiar figure came over to me. I stared up at his face, my face pale and void of any emotion as he knelt down to me, taking my isolated arm in his tattooed hands.
"You got a pretty bad cut," Zayn whispered, almost like he was confirming what he saw was real. "Let's get a royal medic to stitch you up, yeah?"
I didn't say anything, only stared blankly at the man who had been giving me a cold shoulder and kissed me earlier. I hated the way he was speaking to me, like he was talking to a child, but deep inside I knew it was because he was trying his best to keep me together. I was like cracked glass, Zayn was a delicate glassmaker trying to keep his beautiful work of art from getting any more damaged.
Zayn kept his composure well, kneeling down to my eye level after he spoke. His face didn't falter at all as he reached his hand up to brush my cheek before wrapping around my waist, his other hand cradling my hurt arm carefully.
"You're okay, Odette. You're safe."
That was all it took for the dam that was my previously strong will to shatter, my eyes shedding a waterfall of tears that soaked Zayn's dark uniform. Strange sounds escaped me, strangled cries and whimpers as the terrible visions came back, the terrifying sight of the assassin aiming for me burned into the back of my brain, as well as his dead body.
Zayn didn't say anything as he let me cry everything out, only rubbing my back gently and whispering soothing words to my broken self. Eventually my cries turned into silent sniffling, and Zayn pulled away from our hug. He kissed my forehead before ushering a doctor over to me to patch up the cut that didn't look like much to me, but apparently was pretty serious since it was still bleeding.
Zayn managed to get a doctor to treat me, considering most of royal medics were concerned with the ones who were actually born into the royal family. The doctor informed Zayn I would need stitches, and my nausea came back again.
I hated needles, and I hated anything that involved blood and guts and hospitals. Zayn held my hand as the doctor began preparing a syringe full of some medicine that would numb my arm, keeping every second of my attention away from the needle slowly going through my skin through the use of words and kisses. It worked, I hardly felt the syringe needle, and before I knew it, the doctor began stitching me up. I found the whole process gross, but I stayed strong for Zayn. He had bigger problems to deal with than my measly cut.
"There you go, Miss, the cut's all stitched up." The doctor told me as he put his tools away in a black bag. He wrapped my stitches in some gauze before telling me I would have to take it easy on the arm until the stitches were ready to come out.
"I'm proud of you." Zayn whispered to me as he rewarded my bravery with a kiss to the lips.
It was almost silent in the bunker afterwards, everyone was too stunned by what happened just minutes before. Ivy was leaned up against a corner, eyes still trained on the pistol she had whipped out so suddenly, fingers tracing the intricate designs on it. The scene was hauntingly beautiful, a girl as pretty as her holding something that could take away a life so easily and without regrets.
Waliyha, Doniya, and Safaa were huddled against each other and Lady Malik, all three weeping their eyes out. Zayn's aunt, the previous queen was next to them on the floor, saying nothing, making no sound.
No one knew exactly how extensive the damage was, we were waiting for Zayn's father to report it all.
He stepped in the room not long after, the silence he brought with him deafening. You could hear a pin drop as everyone sucked in a breath, not wanting to hear the worst. Zayn's father sighed before speaking, his voice shaky.
"My brother and his son Sebastian are in the royal hospital, both seriously injured." I saw Ivy freeze up in the corner of the room.
Everyone was waiting for the other news. Apparently Damian had been hit by a bullet as well as Delia, and a strangled sob escaped the former queen as she took in Yaser's news. He hadn't said Delia and Damian were in the hospital.
Everyone seemed to catch on to Zayn's father's unspoken innuendo except the former queen.
"And Delia and Damian? They're alright?" The former queen asked, hope gleaming in her eyes.
Yaser didn't say anything. He stayed silent as everyone watched the poor mother's eyes fill with tears.
"No...both my babies are dead aren't they?" Her shaky voice was soft, almost a whisper.
Zayn's father still didn't speak, and everyone broke into one simultaneous sob. Delia and Damian were dead. Sebastian and the former king were apparently fighting for their lives in the hospital. The former queen was the worst, broken sobs and uneven breaths combined with ear-shattering screams of her now dead children's names.
I couldn't help myself as I started crying too. It wasn't fair. Delia, I believed, didn't deserve any of this. She was the last person I would say deserved to suffer the consequences of a tiny peasant revolution. She was an angel on earth, and with tears running down my face, I wondered if she was an actual one now in heaven.
Everyone was crying now; even some of the older servants, who had served the Malik family for years, shed a few tears.
"My brother is going to be fine, the bullet only clipped him. He should be out of the hospital in a week or so. Sebastian, however..." Yaser trailed off, and I noticed Ivy grow stiff with worry. Zayn's father, a previously strong and powerful man, had to take a breath to steady himself before continuing.
"Sebastian took a bullet to the shoulder and abdomen. He is in the ICU of the royal hospital in a drug-induced coma." The painful crying increased at this news. I took another glance to Ivy, noticing how pale she had gotten, her eyes wide. She took one dark glance to the gun still in her hand before clenching her fists tight. I wondered if she blamed Sebastian's injuries on herself not acting quick enough. I felt pity for her, it wasn't her fault, she shouldn't think things like that.
Without thinking, I found myself standing to my feet, taking shaky steps towards the crumbling girl in front of me. Ivy gave me one pained look before allowing me to wrap my arms around her, rubbing her back on an attempt to soothe her sadness. A strangled sob left the royal advisor before she dropped her gun, small hands clutching me tightly.
"It's all my fault, Sebastian getting hurt was my fault." Ivy wept.
"Shh, don't say that, you didn't know that was going to happen. You did the best you could." Our roles had suddenly reversed, I was now the one offering comfort to a broken soul. "Sebastian will be okay, the doctors did what they had to."
Ivy's body shook as she processed my words.
"B-But...he's in a coma!" Ivy cried out, hugging me impossibly close.
"Yes, he's in a coma, but so he can heal. He'll be better in no time, and I'm sure nothing would be better for him than seeing you the moment he wakes up." I whispered, and Ivy seemed to find her fighting spirit again. She released me, nodding silently before wiping away her tears and composing herself back to the Ivy I had met my first day at Malik Manor.
She stepped in the middle of the small room of weeping people, clearing her throat to get everyone's attention.
"I know everyone is devastated and mourning after today's events, but as your family's chosen royal advisor, I must look to the future." She began, her face blank, no emotion visible. She was good at closing her personal feelings away.
"And if we are to look to the future, we will find it looks bleak if we just sit and mourn. Delia, Damian, even Sebastian wouldn't want this country in a panic because of them. If you will clear your minds from the powerful emotions of fear, rage, and sadness, you will realize that we have a pressing issue to settle." Ivy continued, and everyone fell silent as they realized what Ivy was saying.
"Delia was killed just as she completed her ruling vows of a queen. Therefore, this was an assassination of the queen of the Malik Empire, and as a result, there is no one appointed to wear her fallen crown." Ivy took her time to stare each royal in the eyes for a few moments before moving on, taking a long glance at Zayn as she spoke her ultimatum.
"We have an empty throne. We need to appoint a new king."
A/N: Phew, that was quite the emotional chapter to write. I hate making bad things happen to characters, but it must be done for the story to move on sadly. Thank you all for the amazing support I've been getting recently on this story, it makes me so happy to see everyone say things like this is an amazing story and that they can't get enough of it! I love you all, and please vote and comment! -M