Steel Princess (Royal Elite 2)

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.