Royal Mess (Devil's Knights 2nd Generation 3)

Chapter One

Mistake?

Marco

“She’s asleep.” Meg closed the door behind her and folded her arms over her chest. “I think the guys want to have a talk with you.”

I loosened the tie around my neck. “Is she okay?” I didn’t want to talk right now. I wanted to make sure Royal was all right.

Meg rolled her eyes. “She just listened to her brother die, Marco. I’m going to go with no.” Meg always was a straight shooter. I had been around the club since I was sixteen, and Meg had always been the same. Goofy as fuck, but one of the best people I’ve ever known. There was a reason why everyone loved her.

“I didn’t know this was going to happen, Meg. I tried to stop it.”

Fucking hell, did I try to stop it.

I had gotten word Biff Meeks was pissed I had pulled out of my end of the deal. Apollo had called to tell me Meeks was threatening to retaliate. At first, I had laughed it off, but something nagged at me. After a five-minute screaming match on the phone with Biff, he ended it telling me I would regret the day I screwed over the Meeks, and now, Grit was going to be the first person to pay for it.

Within half an hour of talking to Biff, Grit was dead.

Grit was dead because of me.

“But it happened, Marco.”

I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed. “I know, Meg.”

She put her hand on my shoulder. “And now you need to fix it, Marco.” A sad smile crossed her lips, and she squeezed gently. “I know you can.” She moved around me and back down the hallway to the common room.

I stared at the dark wood of the door in front of me. Royal was in there. Only feet away, but it felt like miles.

I was the reason why her world was crumbling around her.

Under normal circumstances, this shouldn’t matter to me. I shouldn’t be feeling like shit because of a business deal gone bad.

It was business.

Fix it and move on.

Except now, it wasn’t.

This was way more than business.

The first person to pay was Grit. Now, I had to wonder who would be the second.

It could be Royal.

“She needs to sleep, Marco.”

“I know,” I whispered.

Mom leaned against the door and folded her arms over her chest. “Then what are you doing standing here?” she asked.

“Thinking.” Trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do next?