Ruthless Secrets (Elites of Macedon High 2)
Chapter Thirty
Parker
Alex never spoke highly of her mother, and the two of them were far from being the picturesque mother-daughter duo. But who around here can boast of such a close relationship? Looking at my own family reveals a medley of dysfunctional idiots, all of them connected by invisible strings that we are powerless to control.
But not me. I refuse to allow that to be me.
Watching Ophelia die in Alex’s arms hardens me. It makes me feel like I’m looking through a microscope into someone else’s life, not mine. The choked sob that echoes from Alex doesn’t quite reach my ears, all sound seeming to be cut off from the source.
I frown as I watch her lower her mother to the ground, stand, and walk away.
It’s then I realize the mansion is deathly quiet. When I look up the staircase, I don’t see the servants hurrying around to clean up the mess left by our rowdy guests. The sniper that was on top of the mansion seems to have fled—or perhaps he’s still up there, intending to pluck me and Alex off the earth when we give him the opportunity.
Security responds when I send them a text. They patrol the courtyard, clear the floors, and check the roof, inspecting every nook and cranny where someone could possibly hide with a rifle. When no one turns up, it sickens me, making me feel like I’ve completely missed a huge piece of the puzzle.
What am I not seeing?
My father is missing. And my mother is gone, too. Alex and I seem to be alone on the grand estate, giving me a glimpse of what our future might look like. Will the death and destruction of the people we love become our new normal? Was it ever normal?
I send our security team to the edges of the property in search of guests, snipers, or whatever the fuck might turn up as a result of this ridiculous event. As soon as that’s handled, I wander down the hallway to find Alex, listening intently to her soft sniffles from the other side of the door.
After I knock, I speak with her briefly, trying to get her to come out. She refuses to come out of the bathroom, prompting me to break the lock with my fist and swing the large door open, revealing a grand half bath that sparkles in strange opposition to the bloody foyer just down the hall.
“Hey.”
She looks at me, eyes round and full of fear. When my arms circle her, she goes limp, losing consciousness so fast that I almost drop her.
“Shit,” I groan while catching her. “Shock.”
Scooping her up is easy. I always forget how petite she is, how uncomplicated it is to hold her in my arms without much effort. It’s like carrying a princess out of a dark tower away from a dangerous dragon. I could be the knight, but I know that’s far from the truth, my situation acting more as the tower than the relief. Once I get past the hallway and the foyer, I carry her up the stairs to my bedroom, carefully laying her out on my bed.
I speak with security at the door, instructing them not to come inside—and to call the fucking clean-up crew because I’m not dealing with a dead body right this second. My team tackles the issue immediately and impresses me with their response, following my orders without question. It’s almost like I have the keys to the kingdom already.
Alex whimpers behind me. I turn to find her face shoved into a pillow, her hand loosely covering her head. Dry blood sticks to her fingers and the front of her dress, remnants of Ophelia clinging to her just as she clung to her mother. Grimly aware of how she might feel upon waking to such a mess, I wander to the bathroom and gather a washcloth with a bowl of warm water.
The distant sound of fire engines rings through the air. Through the windows, I see smoke billow from the vineyards as firefighters get the flames under control, my team barking orders to people in the backyard. It strikes me that there’s so much activity, and yet I feel like I’m by myself with the woman I’m supposed to marry, unconscious in my bed.
I shake my head as I return to Alex. She’s rolled over onto her back, making my job much easier for me. I work off her dress, carefully wipe up whatever blood stains her skin, and then take the dress to one of the maids to be laundered. When I return, I have a pair of my jogging pants and a loose muscle shirt for her to wear.
Seeing her undressed in my bed without it being about sex feels…intimate. Her mouth slacks open as she sleeps, the stress probably knocking her out so deeply that waking her up would be impossible. I dress her carefully, check the pillows and blankets for blood, and then tuck her in, smoothing a loose lock of hair out of her face.
I kiss her forehead, quietly repeating my promise to her that she won’t go without my protection. That’s something I think Alex underestimates in me—my promises.
But I intend to keep them, no matter what.
When I’m sure she’s safe, I order a guard to stand outside the door and make sure she stays safe. I take a flashlight with me and grab a gun, tucking it into the waistband of my dress pants as I head downstairs. I drop my blazer on the staircase, wander past the area where the maids are already scrubbing blood from the floor, and march into the courtyard, squinting at what’s left of the setting sun.
Christ, this is a fucking mess. If my father hadn’t run off through the goddamn vineyard, then I wouldn’t have to go looking for him. I could find nothing—or I could find his charred body. Who fucking knows?
After clearing the area with the firefighters, I head for the shoreline, searching the area for people or signs of life. One of the rowboats is missing. Shadows crowd the area, inspiring me to grab the flashlight and sweep it over the dock. Though dusk lingers, it’s getting too dark for my eyes to register fine details.
A coat is all that’s left of my father. It hangs from one of the poles at the end of the dock, causing my shoulders to flex angrily.
“So,” I whisper in a low voice while cracking my neck, “He left his family to die.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. When I check the screen, I notice a text from my mother stating that she’s safe. She had a security team smuggle her off the property before things got really dicey. I suppose she has no idea one of her friends got taken out on the lawn.
It strikes me that I could talk to her about it. I could text her and tell her about her friend, explain to her how I’m not sure how to comfort Alex, and share the evidence my father left behind.