Auctioned to the Cruel King - Chapter 62: Chapter 62

Lance’s POV
The palace lights greeted us after an hour of driving. Kayla hadn’t said a word since we left the inn. Not in the car. Not even when I carried her inside, the blood from her thigh was still warm against my shirt even though I’d tied a cloth around it. She hadn’t looked at me either.
I told myself that was fine.
Falco was waiting near the entrance of her room, summoned before we’d even neared the palace.
“She’s hurt,” I said quietly, after I laid her on the bed.
Kayla winced but still didn’t speak.
Falco’s expression tightened as he glanced at the blood. “I’ll clean her up and give her something for the pain.”
I nodded once, stepping back.
I stayed rooted in the hallway for another second longer than I should’ve. Then I turned and left.
If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have gotten as close to Cleo as I did. Wouldn’t have walked in without triggering the bloodbath too early. She’d bought me time—even if she hadn’t meant to. Even if she didn’t know it.
Even if I had scared her.
And gods, I had scared her.
But there had been no other way.
I took the stairs. The guards on each floor straightened at my approach, but I didn’t acknowledge them. My thoughts were loud enough.
The door to my office was already unlocked.
I stepped inside, turned the bolt behind me, and moved to the wine shelf in the corner. Uncorked the bottle. The smell hit me first…rich and heady. I poured myself a glass and downed it in a single swallow.
The silence wasn’t empty.
“How did you get in here?” I said quietly, setting the glass down.
Vivian’s voice floated from the corner. “I was wondering how long it would take before you noticed me.”
I turned slowly. She stood by the window, leaning against the glass as if she belonged there. Even with the world dark outside, it was easy to spot her.
“I could smell your perfume halfway down the hall,” I muttered.
She tilted her head. “Aw. You missed me.”
“I said perfume,” I replied. “Not heat.”
That made her laugh. She pushed off the wall, walking toward me with that same loose elegance she always carried—even with half her fingers still wrapped in gauze.
“What is it this time?”
“I came to see if you did it.” She sniffed the air, then grinned. “No need to answer. I can smell the blood still clinging to you.”
I didn’t respond.
She reached for the wine, poured herself a glass. Moved like nothing had changed.
“He gave me no choice,” I said, more to the shadows than to her. “There was no reasoning with him.”
Vivian raised her brows, amused. “And who said there would ever be? Cleo was never built for logic. He fed off chaos. You of all people should’ve known that.”
I turned away, leaning against the edge of my desk.
I’d made a vow. Years ago. That I wouldn’t spill blood within my own lands. Not after what happened that night. She must have read my stance because she said, “Is that regret I smell from you? He got what he deserved. His thirst, his greed to be more than what he already was caused his downfall. Like a pet who bites the fingers of the one who feeds him, you put him down."
But she was wrong.
I felt no regret for Cleo—the bastard had earned his fate the moment he'd threatened me. No, the weight pressing down on my chest was something else entirely.
Vivian didn't know about the nightmares, about the child's face that still haunted my dreams. She didn't know about the promise I'd made to myself, the line I'd sworn never to cross again. And I'd broken it. Torn it apart as surely as I'd torn apart Cleo's guts.
I clenched my jaw. “I’d crossed a line.” Again.
Vivian snorted. “You act like you’ve never crossed lines before. You think this is different?”
“Don’t.”
“Right. Off-limits.”
I turned and walked to the window, dragging in a slow breath. The night outside was still. Somewhere out there, Cleo’s blood still stains the floors of that inn. His body would be gone soon.
But the stain in my mind… that would linger.
“Maybe,” I said quietly, more like echoing Kayla’s thought, “if we’d talked more… maybe there would’ve been another way to settle things without me having to rip out his guts."
“Wait. You ripped out his guts?" She laughed, the sound echoing off the office walls. "Oh my. You absolutely did,” she cackled. “That’s so you. Straight to the point. Gods, I would’ve paid to see the look on his face.”
Sometimes Vivian could be so many things, but tonight her bloodthirst grated against my already frayed nerves.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I snapped, finally turning. “Don’t you ever feel anything? Regret? Shame?”
“Shame?” She laughed again. “Darling, those are luxuries. Emotions for those who still believe the world is fair. I gave those up long ago. What’s done is done. It can’t be undone.”
She looked at me over the rim of her glass. “Unless you’ve found a way to shove Cleo’s intestines back into his stomach and stitch him up?”
I groaned.
“I didn’t think so,” she acknowledged and turned. “That would be a neat trick to have."
She set down her glass and fixed me with that penetrating stare of hers. "Come on, stop this charade of feeling. I know you. You don't actually feel sorry for him."
She poured herself another drink, then filled mine. “You need something stronger,” she said, handing me the glass. “We should celebrate.”
“There’s nothing to celebrate.”
She shrugged. “I’d disagree. One less problem to worry about.”
“How’s your arm?”
Vivian flexed her fingers. “Still numb. Falco’s drugs are good. You should see him sometime.”
“No thanks.”
She stepped closer, eyes gleaming. “So… how did our dear Luna take the scene? The whole Cleo incident?" She waved her hand dismissively. "Damn it, talking about him only seems to give him more life. From now on, we're going to come up with a nickname when we talk about him.” I ignored her, turning back to the window.
“Oh, come on,” she prodded. “She got to see you in action. That should knock a bit of that innocence off of her. Have you spoken to her about the thing?"
I didn't turn. “What thing?”
Ah. Right.
“You mean your suspicion that she’s hiding something?”
“Oh, yes.”
“How are you even sure she's hiding anything?"
She clicked her tongue and sighed dramatically. "Okay then, not my business anyway." She emptied her cup of wine in one swallow. "But my advice to you is not to let her leave your sight."
Vivian turned to leave, had nearly reached the door when I called out to her.
"Can you help me?"
She paused, hand on the doorknob. "What do you mean?"
“You know what I mean. Your parrot network. Don't think I don't know about them. Steady but a bit less organized, you've even managed to infiltrate the palace staff."
A slow smile spread across her face. "How long have you known?"
"You underestimate me, Vivian. You forget that I am the alpha of this pack, and this palace is mine."
"What do you want?"
"Observe and report. But do not interfere."
"Like you don't have one of your own already watching her. Anyway, I can't promise you anything about what I find. But why don't you try asking her first? Then I may consider your request."
When I gave no response, she turned and left.