Page 57 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy (Spies and Royals #4)
Achilles shifted. Was he too late? Deedeelicious’s camera phone found center stage as the crowd murmured appreciatively, though he noticed how Bris’s hands trembled slightly as she curtsied to acknowledge their applause.
He should be up there with her. Forget propriety and forget whatever insulting message Chises Mnon was sending by not demanding his presence with his wife—she was too exposed.
Bodyguards were positioned strategically; Polly’s tight smile; unfamiliar faces among the security detail—almost all of them strangers! That was why keeping Phoenix for so long had been a mistake—they’d needed someone they trusted who also happened to be capable.
Would Peder be enough? He spotted his friend moving through the crowd, his broad shoulders and dark hair so similar to Achilles’s own that guests did double-takes as he passed. There was one man he truly trusted, someone who’d proven his loyalty through years of friendship.
Charisse’s fingers brushed his arm, and he glanced down to meet her resolute gaze.
“Yes… Achilles. Take our helicopter.” Gratitude crashed over him, weighted with the knowledge of what she was sacrificing—her resources, her safety, perhaps even her heart—to help him save his wife.
She nodded, lips pressed with grim determination.
“Promise me you won’t get yourself killed, okay? My father has this cottage in Aeaea—you could hide out there while you figure things out. There’s food, guns… if you need them! No one will bother you there. I’m texting you the coordinates now!”
He studied the tender lines of her face glistening against the lights of the chandeliers—maybe she wasn’t an angel, but she sure was a good friend.
The first sounds came from near the dais—a scuffle, raised voices, the distinctive crack of something breaking.
Achilles turned toward the commotion, the world narrowing to a single point as he watched Peder tackling one of Bris’s security men…
and then another joining the fray, who was definitely not on their side.
Peder’s voice cut through the ceremonial music: “The security team—they’ve been compromised! Infiltration Protocol Alpha!” The Tirrojan military code echoed across the ballroom as his whole body tensed. Their own security had been turned against them.
An instant later, the world exploded. The force of the blast threw him to his knees, the marble floor trembling beneath him like an earthquake.
His ears rang with the deafening roar, and smoke filled his lungs as debris rained down.
The sensation transported him back to his days with the Myrdon forces—the chaos of battle, the acrid smell of explosives, the way time seemed to slow.
His heart slammed against his ribs as one thought consumed him: Was Bris alive?
The ballroom plunged into darkness.
Emergency lighting flickered on, casting everything in hellish red shadows.
Guests screamed and stampeded toward the exits in blind panic.
Glancing over at Charisse, he saw that she’d already fled from his side.
Her father clutched her in the madness—their reunion flickering in and out of sight under the strobing emergency lights like a broken film reel.
Achilles fought through the human tide threatening to carry him away, his eyes locked on Bris.
Desperation clawed at his chest with each second that he couldn’t see her.
His wife was getting swept along by the crowd like a leaf in a hurricane.
There was no sign of her father, and the Earl had vanished in the mayhem.
Another of his father’s allies or just a coward who’d deserted her? There was no way of telling!
He positioned himself in Bris’s path and caught her wrist as she stumbled past. Relief flooded through him as he felt her warmth—she was alive, she was real, and he’d never let her go again. She gasped as he pulled her into an ornate alcove behind marble columns, pressing her close against him.
Through the silk and jewels, he felt his Bris—her racing heartbeat, the familiar curve of her waist, the way she instinctively molded herself to him. This woman was his wife; she’d become a part of him, and he hadn’t even noticed until the threat of losing her became real.
“You’re not becoming queen tonight,” he rasped. Or ever! He pulled her through a side corridor, running his knee against a side table and knocking over a book with guests’ signatures. Pens clattered against a polished floor that was blissfully empty of panicking guests.
He noticed her pale face—was that from the explosions or because she feared him? Once and for all, he had to know: “Do you trust me?”
“Yes…” It came out in a cry, bursting from her with such fierceness that she actually jumped.
His heart lifted. Despite her father shattering her ability to trust, despite his past with the Myrdons, for just a moment, he believed they could get through this…
if he could get her out of here. “Okay, Prissy, let’s go. ”
His phone buzzed, and he grappled for it.
Peder’s voice crackled through, barely audible over explosions and shouting in the background: “Achilles! The bodyguards were Myrdon operatives—we’ve got three in custody, but they keep coming!
” Like the ants they were! His father was taking no chances of Bris’s survival.
“They were planning to grab Bris during the coronation. I can’t find her! ”
“I have her!” Achilles said.
“Good… good… get her out of there!”
“Copy that. Handle the palace and—get Gena out, do you hear me?”
“You can count on me.”
His whole body relaxed in relief. If anyone could follow through with that promise, Peder would.
“Okay—we’re going dark for a while.” And he needed those coordinates to Charisses’s place in Aeaea.
Glancing over at fallen pens, he stole one from off the ground and copied the coordinates she’d sent against his arm.
“But my father?” Bris planted her feet, her heels sliding over the polished marble. “Won’t we need another security team with us?”
“I don’t trust anyone here, except Peder.” He dropped his phone on the table, knowing they’d track him with it. “We’re leaving them all behind.”
“Behind? Where are we going?”
He turned to face her fully. Under the flickering emergency lights, he took in her frightened eyes, her hair coming loose from its elaborate style, and he saw the woman he’d grown to admire and cherish.
She clung to him, her fingers digging into his jacket like an anchor in a storm.
Could it be that she wanted to be with him as much as he needed to be with her?
“Somewhere they won’t ever expect us to go,” he said. “Aeaea.”
“The island?”
“The one from the history books, yes.”
Her face went pale, and he felt a jolt of concern when she swayed slightly, as if she might faint. “What’s there?”
“My father, Bris! He’s behind all this. And I’m not leaving you behind—never again. You have to know that… I meant what I told you. I love you.”
He’d never seen such a look of crumbling resolve. She watched him with desperate longing, and those tears were threatening again. “What about our people?”
“We can’t help anyone if we’re puppets. But if we become free—I promise you, we can free them too.”
“But…” her voice broke, “you don’t understand…”
“No, I don’t.” He took a deep breath, hearing the sounds of gunfire echoing behind them as he pulled her deeper into the shadowed alcove. “Talk to me.”
Hidden in the darkness of the marble archway, they crouched low beside an ornate pillar.
The emergency lighting cast strange shadows across her face, but he could see the anguish in her eyes as her lips parted to speak.
“My father threatened to give me to the Earl of Alexopoulos if I turn against him.”
Rage exploded through him like molten lava.
Was this why she’d been walking on eggshells since her father’s arrival?
Always on the verge of tears? She’d been terrified of losing him?
He struggled to keep his voice steady through his fury.
“You mean he threatened to annul our marriage if we step out of line?”
She bit her trembling lip. “I mean… yes… I would’ve clawed Dimitri’s eyes out if he tried to touch me—I think I would’ve—but… yes, my father knows how to make me come around. Maybe threaten you or Venice…”
Just like last time. No wonder she’d been so fragile, so guarded.
Why hadn’t she come to him? Would he have listened?
“He can’t force us apart if we don’t let him.
” He blamed himself for this. Of course, Chises Mnon had thought such an insulting, gross move would be easy when their marriage had been a sham from the beginning. But was it now?
He forced himself to focus on what mattered most. “Brissy… do you want to build a real future together, take control of our own lives?”
Her fingers twined through his, and she squeezed his hand with a sob. “Yes, Killiefish. More than anything I’ve ever wanted. Let’s go to Aeaea!”
She didn’t have to say another word. His grasp tightened over her, and he swept her up from their hiding place, setting her gently on the polished granite before grasping her hand and racing down the corridor.
They took advantage of the chaos. Diplomats running in evening wear, security forces shouting orders in multiple languages.
The smoke billowing from the ballroom masked their escape.
Behind them, shouts echoed through the palace as security forces tried to restore order.
A massive figure in black tactical gear lumbered around the corner, assault rifle raised.
Achilles threw himself sideways, shoving Bris behind him as they crashed through the nearest door—the ladies’ powder room, all marble columns and gilt mirrors that reflected the scene like something from a slasher.