Page 86 of Uncrowned

I pulled the chair out, not answering.

Routine.

Time.

Regret.

So much fucking regret.

“No.”

I stared down at my food, but I didn’t attempt to eat it. Dominique stayed glued to his phone, and my mind drifted as I picked up a fork.

“Oh. Oh.”

My eyes cut up. Not interested but more aggravated.

“What?”

“Sire.” He rushed to my side, thrusting his phone into my face. “Is this her? Is this Ms. Taylor?”

A blurry picture had me squinting and snatching the device out of his grasp. The chair fell back behind me as I stood, and I could feel my heart racing as I took in the dark hair and pale skin. The woman was clearly running. It was dark, and she was dressed… oddly for the season. She was in a white slip dress and barefoot. It had to have been cold out there. Too cold to be dressed like that. But was it her? God, it looked like her.

“Where did you get this? When was it taken?”

“It just came in. It’s from my contact in the paper. The image came from a security camera outside a twenty-four-hour bakery. The baker claims he knows Ms. Taylor personally and saw her run by. He claims she and her mother used to come in on occasion. He swears it was her, and that she was running towards her home. Apparently, though, this took place days ago. No one would listen to the baker, which is why he supplied proof to the paper.

“Days ago?” My anger was evident as I pinned Dominique with a look but went back to the phone. I zoomed in on the image. “It’s her. It has to be.” I glanced up. “Find out for sure. I want men headed to her home right now. Send some to The Met. If they have her, you find a way to bring her to me. No excuses.”

CHAPTER 29

Penelope

“Lie.”

My body jolted through the shock that locked my limbs. “I’m n-not lying.”

“Bullshit. Go over the story again.”

Burning registered from the multiple places I’d already been electrocuted. Muscles screamed, and the cut on my lip was still bleeding the smallest amount. “I already have, so many times. Please. I don’t know anything. I want to leave. I want to go h-home.”

I sobbed, holding to the innocent, fragile woman I’d been months ago. She was still in there, offering me a reprieve from my sins—my heartbreak. But the other woman in me wasn’t taking well to these interrogations. She was stewing under the pressure and abuse, and the anger festered and grew with every day that passed.

“This is your home until you can tell the truth. We’re starting over and doing this again.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“You’re lying. You’re harboring a very dangerous man. That’s what you’re doing.”

My head shook. And shook. And shook.

“I’m not. I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about. He took me. I want to go home.”

The days were brutal. The nights were worse. The two women made sleeping impossible. They tortured me in their own ways. They were doing everything they could to get me to spill my secrets on Vaughn, even if they didn’t say his name. They had no idea that I did not own my voice. A queen would never betray her king or her people. A queen wouldn’t fold under any amount of pressure. I may not have been an actual queen, but my loyalty to Vaughn was equivalent, and I would not break.

A frustrated sound left me, but I kept it light. More like a child.

“Where are your parents?”