Own My Soul (Sixty Days 3)

This was someone I recognised from the big wide world outside. From photos of the royal family and charity days out.

This was Edward MacMillan York, an attractive young prince about fourth in line for the throne. I’d seen him plenty in magazines over the years. I’d seen him on the TV with his kind smile and perfect white teeth, captured as the perfect royal in a perfect world.

But seemingly not.

I froze in a breath, unsure whether to drop to my knees or curtesy, or run hard right out of there.

“Edward,” Brandon greeted, as though they went back a long way. “Sorry you have to walk in on all this. I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

The man shrugged, staring down at the mess of Drake on the floor. “Could be worse, Grant. I heard you two were at loggerheads. Only one winner from the sounds of it. I’m guessing that’s going to be you.”

Brandon shrugged right back at him. “I’ve got some material to send Drake down for a while. I guess that counts some way towards coming out on top.”

But the guy shook his head and clicked his fingers hard enough that the security guys dived in to take hold of the crumpled wolf.

“No material needs to come out of this place,” the prince said. “I don’t want to be associated with any of this, and neither will any one of my family. Quiet, that’s what I want. Quiet and no noise from any of this. Not even a fucking peep.”

Brandon nodded. He nodded and held out a hand to Eric, gesturing him over.

Eric got up. Got up and retreated to our side of the room.

“So what happens now?” Brandon asked the royal guy. “He killed our father. That isn’t going to blow over. Not for me, and not for Eric either… it’s not that simple –”

As the words came out of Bran’s mouth they were interrupted by a tear of bone and flesh that had me squealing. Squealing and pressing into Brandon’s back like a girl gone mad as the pile that was once Drake collapsed on the floor with a freshly broken neck.

The security guards stepped back to the side of the prince, and the prince was smiling. Unfazed by anything as we looked on up at him. And I knew it then. I knew it for sure.

I didn’t know shit about this kind of life or world. I didn’t know anything but the man supposed to be a pinup charity worker with a perfect smile.

And I didn’t want to.

“Like I said, only one winner,” he repeated. “I’m guessing that’s going to be you.”

Brandon and Eric stared over, speechless as the security guards looked up at Edward York for their next instruction.

“I’ll be clearing up here,” the prince said. “Just not a fucking peep to anyone, understand me? No fucking memory cards, or murder videos, or hints that anything ever happened here bar Henry Drake having a tragic accident.”

“I understand,” Brandon said, and Eric nodded.

I forced myself to nod along with them.

I couldn’t believe it when the smile lit up the royal’s face even brighter. “You may not think this is a good way to end it,” he said. “But believe me, I’ve been hearing enough these past few days. Drake was convinced it was you and him going up head to head with no way out. He said it was life or death, one of you going down all the way into the ground. Only he was convinced it was going to be you, Grant. He was convinced you’d end up buried deep before he ever would.” He pressed a toe into the crumpled heap of the man on the floor. “I thought he may well be wrong, arrogant prick. You brothers have clearly come out on top. Now it’s time to move along and draw a line under the whole sorry episode.”

He held out a hand for a handshake and Brandon stepped forward and grabbed it tight. I held my breath as he shook the prince’s hand in one solid motion, scoping out Eric who was clearly reeling hard from his own crazy outburst.

“Keep in touch,” the prince said.

I could barely feel my legs as the men wrapped up the sorry fuck up of a conversation and I was led out of there, losing every scrap of my poor brain function until I arrived in the cold light of the hallway.

“Let’s get out of here,” Brandon said, and I nodded. I really nodded.

“But Rebecca,” I insisted. “We need Rebecca, we need her right now…”

It was Eric’s hand that landed on my shoulder. His fingers that squeezed me tight. “I’ll go for her,” he said. “Believe me, it’s on my cards to make sure she’s alright. I’ve been thinking about her all fucking day.”

He was already down the stairs heading in her direction as my legs gave in from under me.