Page 102 of Royal Bargain

It was never just about a daughter running away, a girl refusing to fall in line.

Someone wanted me out of the way.

Someone needed a scapegoat—someone expendable enough to discredit, to isolate, to chase into the arms of the enemy.

And I played right into their hands.

I look at Sasha. “This isn’t about me, is it?”

She doesn’t answer.

But the silence is all the confirmation I need.

I open my mouth to ask the next question—Who? Why? What did they gain from framing me?

But Sasha’s head jerks up like she’s heard something and she goes still.

Completely, terrifyingly still.

Then her hand shoots out and grabs my wrist.

“We need to go,” she says, voice clipped and urgent. “Now.”

“What—why?” I spin, searching the darkness. “Did you see something?”

“I don’t know,” she mutters. “But we’re not alone anymore.”

A chill rips down my spine. The air shifts. The night feels different—heavier. Watching.

A chill rips down my spine. The air shifts. The night feels different—heavier. Watching.

She tugs me back the way we came, boots crunching soft against the gravel, every step tight with urgency.

We move fast, cutting toward the fence. Even the wind sounds too loud—the creak of distant metal, the hiss of air slipping between rusted beams and broken containers.

Everything feels amplified out here.

Then something shifts.

I don’t know how to explain it. Just a pressure in the air. A weight. Like we’re not alone. Like we’re being watched.

Sasha slows. Her eyes flick to the dark space between two containers. I stop beside her, breath catching.

“I don’t like this,” I whisper.

She doesn’t answer. Instead, her whole body goes still—muscle memory kicking in as her hand moves toward her coat.

She’s scanning now. Careful. Sharp.

More alert than I’ve ever seen her.

A gust sweeps past, lifting my hair and sending a chill down my spine.

And then I smell it.

Smoke. Not fresh. Not strong. But there. Lingering. Like someone was just here.

Watching.