Reign of a King (Kingdom Duet 1)

PLAY ME.

Curiosity gets the better of me, so I plug it into my car and hit Play.

At first, there’s no sound and I’m about to chalk this up to a prank or something. Then I hear someone breathing and I freeze as a soft voice follows.

Alicia.

Oh my God.

It’s Alicia!

“Hey, Claire. If you get this, it means I’m no longer with you. I debated about whether to leave you this, but I decided that I need to warn you. I need to protect you like I wasn’t able to when I was alive. Claire, baby sis, someone is trying to kill me and I probably will die. I —"

The recording is cut off.

I hit Play and Forward, but it cuts off at the same point every time. I press the player again and again, my fingers shaking.

Damn it. A whole body shudder grips me, and tingles erupt all over my skin at the words I heard straight out of my sister’s mouth.

Someone was trying to kill Alicia.

I knew it. I knew that her death was suspicious.

Now, I have to bring my sister justice.

Just like I did with those vacant eyes.

The moment I’m in front of the King mansion, the metal gate automatically opens like in some horror film.

I drive inside, watching my surroundings as if something or someone will jump me.

The silence of the night is deafening as I slowly go down the road that’s faintly lit by tall stree

t lamps.

A fountain sits in the middle of the garden with imposing grandiose. There’s a statue of an angel pouring water from a jar as the virgin Mary holds him at a tilted angle.

I hit the brakes, staring with wild eyes of the statues. Both the woman and the angel are crying, their expressions wrenched.

I touch my watch, the one Alicia gave me as a present. That same image is engraved on the back of it.

This can’t be a coincidence. There must’ve been something she wanted to tell me. Something that has to do with crying angels and the person who was after her life.

A shiver creeps down my spine as I hit the gas. I don’t stop until I’m parked outside Jonathan’s house.

Inhaling deeply, I step out of my car and stand in front of a large wooden door that appears ancient but elegant with an ornamental design that looks handmade. Not that it should be a surprise, considering this is the tyrant’s residence.

The mansion stretches across a vast piece of land, accentuated by towers on the eastern and western sides. It’s like a glasshouse from the amount of glass visible. Tall windows occupy the three floors and none of them have lights on.

That’s not creepy at all.

This will be the first time I’ve stepped foot into Jonathan’s house. After all, Alicia was the one who came to find me when I used to live in Leeds, not the other way around. The only two times she brought me to London was after Mum’s funeral and during her wedding, and that didn’t happen here. I think it was at her father’s house.

The door opens on its own. Again.

I nearly jump when a petite woman appears at the entrance in utter silence. She’s wearing a black skirt, a white shirt, and matching apron. Her brown hair is held in a stiff bun at the back of her head.

“Good evening, Miss,” she speaks with an Irish lilt. “Mr King is expecting you in the dining room.”