Page 29 of Royal Deception (Royals of the Underworld #2)

RORY

I stare at the note, her neat handwriting scrawled across the paper.

I can’t do this anymore.

A simple message but one that feels like a punch to the gut.

I should’ve expected it. She was unhappy.

I knew that much. But somehow, I still didn’t think she’d actually leave.

I thought maybe I could make things right.

I thought that maybe I’d be able to smooth things over, make her understand that this was just how I am, that relationships, real relationships, aren’t for someone like me.

But now, she’s gone.

It’s a bitter truth settling like stone in my chest. I spent so much time focusing on Callie, on the damn gala, on everything except what was right in front of me.

Clary. She was always there, wasn’t she?

Always, like some quiet constant in the background of my life, making sure things ran smoothly.

She was good at that—too good. She blended into the background so well, I barely even noticed how much I relied on her. How much I depended on her.

How much I fucking liked having her around.

The realization hits me like a freight train.

I thought I was just doing my job, just keeping it professional.

But if I’m honest with myself, I’m not sure I ever really wanted to let her go.

The way she smiled, the way she would look at me when she thought I wasn’t paying attention…

There was something there. Something real.

Something I took for granted, assuming I could just pick it up whenever I wanted.

But I didn’t want it when she was offering it, did I?

I look down at the collar in my hand, at a gesture I thought would be the ultimate symbol of my commitment, of what I wanted with her.

I thought maybe she’d be the one to finally make me want a real relationship.

A relationship where I wasn’t just playing at being dominant and controlling. Where I could be something more.

But I fucked it up, didn’t I?

I didn’t listen to her. I didn’t see her for who she was. I pushed her into a role she didn’t really want, and instead of hearing her, listening to her needs, I shoved my own wants down her throat, ignoring everything that wasn’t what I wanted to see.

I let Callie and the gala, the fucking event, come between us.

And now she’s gone.

As I sit down on the bed, I try to tell myself I’ll get over her.

This was always the way it was going to go. I knew Clary was always too good for someone like me, someone who could never commit, never give enough. That’s why I pushed her away after the little fling we had.

But a part of me doesn’t want to believe it. The weight of that thought settles over me like a cloud, and I can feel the exhaustion creeping into my bones.

I lie back in bed, the room feeling too big, too empty. I close my eyes, trying to shut out the thoughts swirling around my head. I focus on my breath, on the quiet sound of the night. But even as I try to sleep, I know the truth. I don’t want to let her go.

And now I might have to.

I try to push the thought away, but it lingers. It lingers, and it hurts.

And no matter how much I try to force myself to sleep, my mind won’t let me forget.

I wake up with the worst fucking headache of my life.

It’s not from too much alcohol—hell, I barely drank last night.

But there’s something in the air today, something thick and heavy, like the world’s pressing down on me.

My head pounds in time with my pulse, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve done something I can’t undo.

I rub my eyes, pushing the sheets away and sitting up in the darkened room. The remnants of sleep cling to me like cobwebs, and I feel disoriented. I’ve never been good at managing my emotions, and last night, I made it worse. I don’t know how to fix any of it.

So, I do what I do best.

I throw myself into work.

I spend the morning buried in paperwork, pretending like it matters.

I check in on the Russians, our latest headache.

I try to dig into their movements, try to find some clue, something to distract me from the chaos I’ve made of my own life.

I pore over intelligence reports, send out emails to contacts, but nothing holds my attention. Nothing works.

By the time I finally finish at the office, it feels like the weight of the entire day has crushed me.

I step into the apartment, half-expecting to see Clary’s things, her soft clothes, her books, her perfume lingering in the air like a memory I can’t escape.

But when I walk through the door, there’s nothing.

Nothing but silence.

Her things are gone.

The realization hits me like a slap to the face. It’s the final nail in the coffin. She’s really gone. I should’ve seen it coming. I should’ve known when she left that note that she was serious, that she wasn’t coming back. I should’ve stopped her, should’ve begged her to stay.

But now it’s too late.

I stand there for a long time, the silence of the apartment wrapping itself around me like a suffocating blanket. I don’t know what to do with myself.

I can’t just sit here. I need to do something.

I move to my bar, my hand shaking as I pour myself a drink. A small one at first, just enough to feel the burn. But the burn doesn’t do what I need it to. So, I pour another. And another.

Soon, I’m drunk, the haze of alcohol a temporary escape from the mess I’ve made of my life. I grab my phone, and before I can stop myself, I’m dialing Kellan’s number. He’s probably the only person who’s ever seen me at my worst, and right now, I feel like the worst version of myself.

“Hello?” Kellan’s voice is groggy on the other end, like I woke him up.

“I fucked up, Kellan,” I mumble, the words slurring together. “I fucked up so bad, man. Clary… she’s gone. She’s fucking gone, and I don’t know what to do.”

There’s silence on the other end, and then Kellan’s voice, low and serious. “What do you mean, you fucked up? What happened?”

“I tried to start something with her. It wasn’t a relationship, but it was something that I thought we could both enjoy. But it wasn’t enough. She needed more, but I can’t give that to her. So she… she left.”

I hear Kellan exhale slowly, a sound of deep frustration mixed with something else, something like understanding.

“Rory, you’ve got to figure this shit out.

You’re right, man. You screwed up, but you’re not going to fix it by sitting around and drowning in your mistakes.

You need to make it right or you’re gonna lose her for good.

Trust me, I know what it’s like to fuck up with someone you love. ”

The word hangs in the air between us—love. It’s something I never let myself say aloud, not even in my own head, but hearing it from Kellan makes something twist in my gut. Do I love her?

Maybe I’ve loved her all along and I just never let myself admit it.

“I don’t know if I can fix it,” I say, my voice a whisper, the weight of my regret pressing down harder than the alcohol in my bloodstream. “I don’t know how to fix me. How do I fix this?”

Kellan doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just letting the silence hang there between us. Then, finally, he sighs, low and heavy. “I’m coming over.”

I don’t argue. I don’t think I’m even capable of arguing right now. Kellan’s the one person who’s always known me, known when to call me out and when to just let me sit in my own shit.

When he walks through the door, I’m sitting on the couch, nursing my drink like it’s my last. The weight of the day, the regrets, the loneliness… Everything feels suffocating. He takes one look at me and says nothing, just plops down next to me and waits.

“I fucked up, Kellan,” I finally say, my voice hoarse. “It’s all my fault. Our relationship was messed up from day one because I wanted it to be all on my terms.”

“What kind of terms?” he asks, his voice calm.

“It was this whole D/S thing. You know what I mean. We’ve been to the same clubs before.”

Kellan nods, letting me continue.

“We were just fooling around, but it turned into a situationship, then things got out of hand, and the next thing I knew, she was living with me and I was all but fuckin’ proposing to her. Fuck!”

I throw the drink back, savoring the burn as it goes down.

“I just wanted things to be easy between us. Uncomplicated. I thought I could keep things under control if she were just a sub, you know? But it wasn’t enough for her and I knew it.

And maybe…” I take a deep breath, the words I’m afraid of sitting on the tip of my tongue.

And maybe it wasn’t enough for me, either.

Kellan exhales deeply, then slaps me on the shoulder, a little too hard.

“You’ve got to stop thinking you can control everything, Rory.

You can’t expect to always be in control.

If I’ve learned anything from being with Darcy and the kids, it’s that life is completely unpredictable. It’s messy. It’s complicated.”

“What do I do?” I ask, misery in my tone.

“You bend a little,” Kellan says, sitting back against the cushions with a shrug. “You gotta bend or you’ll totally break. You’ve already broken things, but it can still be fixed.”

There’s a long pause, then Kellan leans forward, looking me in the eyes. “You need to decide what you want. What’s important to you? And if it’s Clary, then you need to go after her. You need to figure out how to make it right. No more games.”

After Kellan leaves, the emptiness of the room feels suffocating. I know I should move, do something, but I can’t. It’s like my whole body is frozen in place, wrapped in a blanket of self-loathing. My thoughts are spinning in circles, too tangled to untangle.

I take another drink, feeling the burn slide down my throat, and then another. The ice clinks as it melts, but the ache in my chest won’t go away. The silence is deafening, and all I can hear is the hum of my own misery.

I grab my phone, fingers shaking as I dial her number.

“Clary,” I begin, my voice unsteady, too raw for a man like me.

“I know I fucked up. I don’t even know if you’ll listen to this.

But please… please come back. You’ve been more than just my assistant.

You’ve been everything. I can’t do this without you.

Please, Clary… please just come back, put everything behind us. We can fix this, I swear.”

The next morning, I wake up with a headache pounding through my skull. I squint at the clock. It’s past noon. I didn’t even hear the night go by, my body having decided to skip over time as it shut down from exhaustion and alcohol.

I groggily reach for my phone, rubbing my eyes, when I see the text notification from Clary.

My stomach twists as I open it.

Clary: I’m quitting. Effective immediately. I won’t be coming back to work. Please consider this my resignation.

I stare at the screen, frozen, as the weight of her words sinks in.

She’s really gone.