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“Well, I never thought my own uncle would try to kill me,” Anna snarls.
Hans shrugs. “Your families are a means to an end. Trust me, I had to put up with a lot of your royal bullshit for way too many years. I tried to take care of you brats when you were little, but you weren’t where you were supposed to be. You know it was me who suggested you go to that camp once I learned that Logan here was going. I’m sorry, or is it still ‘Eddie’?” he asks, looking at me.
A chill runs down my spine. The kids that were killed at our camp…that was supposed to be us.
“After that, I had to lie low for a while. But when I had the chance to take out your mother, that was an easy call. I was hoping you were in the car, but my intel was bad,” he says to me. I’m trying to wrap my head around the fact that he just admitted to killing my mother when I see him turn toward Anna.
“Your mother was much easier to take out. She shouldn’t have pried into my affairs so much. But she was getting too close, too close to Sebastian. She suspected he was stirring the anti-monarchist movement over in Montelandia. She would have figured out it was me sooner or later. So, I had her removed,” he says, nonchalantly, as though Anna’s mother was nothing more than a weed that needed to be pulled out of the garden.
Anna’s mouth drops open as a total look of horror takes over her face. “Why? Why would you even marry Aunt Lara?” she says.
“Because, I got more security, all the intel, plus I could easily persuade your father on matters like where to send you to camp, or to let you go to the Bahamas and use my house and my jet, or to let your mother go by herself to the gala. Your fathers are both the most gullible men ever. I’ve spent almost twenty years of my life orchestrating every little thing. And it’s all led up to this.” He looks down at his watch. “I had hoped you would all be at the palace for the big fireworks display in about ten minutes, but I guess you two will have a little accident up here. Six stories is a long way down,” he says, motioning toward the railing next to Anna. She looks over it, and I can see her swallow.
“You can jump yourself, or Logan here will shoot you,” he says. I realize at that moment, he’s going to shoot Anna, and then me and make it look like he acted in self-defense. I’m not sure what comes over me, but before I can think further, I’m jumping in front of Anna as I hear his gun go off.
Chapter Twenty-Six
They say death is peaceful. But I don’t feel peaceful. I fall in front of Anna, and I feel the pain immediately. I hear Anna scream and fall down, pressing her hands to my chest.
A split second later, I hear another “pop” of a gun. I close my eyes as a sense of tiredness I’ve never known overtakes me.
“Logan! No! Stay with me!! Please!” I hear Anna’s screams, and I fight to open my eyes.
“Please! I can’t lose you too!” she cries. I grip her hand with the little strength I have left.
“I’m here,” I manage to croak out as I give up fighting with my heavy eyelids.
I can hear Anna’s sobs. And I hear more voices.
“He’s been shot,” she cries. “Pete! Help him! I’m fine!”
“Stay with us, Logan,” Pete’s voice says, but it’s like it’s getting further away, a tunnel between us.
“Over here,” someone says, and that’s the last thing I remember.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It’s Anna’s hand that I feel as my mind stirs toward consciousness. I don’t know how I can tell it’s her hand, but I know it is. I try to move my finger, but it feels so heavy. My eyelids are also too heavy to open. I try to will them to move but nothing. I slowly drift back into sleep.
The next time I wake, I hear so many voices. This time I can smell the hospital smell, disinfectants, and stale body fluids. I feel nauseous. There’s something heavy on my arm, not Anna’s hand, but I can smell her, not her perfume or her shampoo, but her. I know she’s nearby. I try to move my finger again, but I can’t. The heavy thing on my arm moves. I hear more voices. They sound like a jumble of sounds, and I can’t pinpoint one from the other, there’s too many. I try to speak but I can’t. I drift back to sleep.
The third time I wake, it’s the pain I feel. My body is sore, my chest hurts. The heaviness is back on my arm. I use all my strength to open my eyes. I feel my lids move, and I’m blinded by the light. I close them again and squint. It takes me a few long moments to adjust to the brightness and then another few moments to focus. I look down and discover the heaviness on my arm is Anna’s head. She’s fallen asleep, her hand on mine, and her head on top of her hand. She’s sitting in a chair. She looks so uncomfortable. Her hair’s a wild mess, and there are dark circles under her eyes, but she still looks beautiful.
I look around the room as I try to remember everything that happened. That’s when I remember the gun. I glance down and see my chest is wrapped in bandages. I was shot.
I move my finger, and Anna stirs. Her eyes blink several times and go wide as she looks into my eyes. It’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. Her face lights up.
“You’re awake,” she whispers in a groggy voice as she clears her throat. I start to try to speak but realize my throat is dry and hurts.
“Wait, don’t speak. Let me get the doctor,” she says, fumbling with a remote on the bed and pressing a call button. “He’s awake,” is all she says. Then her gaze comes back to me. I feel her squeeze my hand, and I squeeze back. Her eyes brim with tears.
I want to tell her not to cry. That I’m alright. I use what little strength I have to reach for her cheek, brushing away a stray tear. She clasps my hand in both of hers and brings it to her lips, peppering it with kisses.
A moment later, the door flies open. A doctor, my father, my grandparents, and King Michael all come barreling into the room.
My grandmother rushes to my side.
“Logan,” she manages before a sob escapes her lips. I grab her hand, and she squeezes mine.