7. The King's Court

The next evening arrived too quickly. Faye stood in front of the imposing entrance to The King's Court, her heart pounding in her chest. She hadn't set foot in this place for years, not since she was just another employee in Alaric's sprawling empire. Back then, she'd admired the exclusivity of the private club, the way the city's elite flocked to its polished doors, unaware of the dark dealings that went on behind closed doors.

Now, she was on the other side of it—an unwilling player in a game far bigger than herself.

The thick, velvet ropes had been pulled back for her, and the bouncer at the front gave her a nod, recognizing her instantly. Faye resisted the urge to run. Nikos was right. Meline's family was coming after her, and hiding wasn't an option anymore. The only path forward was to face Alaric, though she dreaded what that might mean.

Steeling herself, she stepped through the entrance. The interior was even more luxurious than she remembered—dark wood paneling, plush seating, and dim lighting that gave the place an air of mystery. Conversations were hushed, laughter soft and distant, as the city's elite sat in their exclusive booths, conducting business or pleasure without a care for who might be listening. They never noticed her when she worked here, and she hoped they wouldn't tonight, either.

Her fingers twitched around the invitation card Nikos had given her, though she didn't need it. They were expecting her. Alaric was expecting her.

As she approached the grand staircase at the back, a waiter stepped forward. "Ms. Devereaux?" he asked politely.

"Yes," she managed, her voice steadier than she felt.

"Mr. Alaric is waiting for you upstairs," he said, gesturing toward the sleek staircase that led to the private suites. Faye nodded, swallowing her anxiety, and began her ascent.

The plush carpet underfoot seemed to muffle the sound of her footsteps, but inside, her thoughts were racing. What was she going to say? How could she confront him about the twins, about Meline, without giving too much away? A part of her still wanted to trust Alaric, to believe he was more than the hardened man he had become. But she knew better now. She couldn't afford to be naive.

The door to the suite was slightly ajar when she reached the top. Faye hesitated, her hand hovering over the handle. Her pulse quickened as she heard the soft murmur of voices inside. Then, after a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The suite was just as opulent as the rest of the club—dimly lit with a long table at its center, where Alaric sat at the head, his back to her. The air was thick with tension, a heavy silence falling the moment she entered.

"Faye." His voice cut through the room like a knife. He didn't turn to look at her, but his presence was undeniable. Cold, controlled, yet radiating power. "You came."

She squared her shoulders, refusing to be intimidated. "I didn't have much of a choice, did I?"

Alaric finally turned, his eyes locking onto hers. He looked the same as always—impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his expression unreadable. But there was something in his gaze tonight, something more intense than before. As if he had been waiting for this moment just as much as she had been dreading it.

"You always have a choice, Faye," he said, standing and taking a step toward her. "You just make the wrong ones."

She bristled at his tone, the way he could still make her feel small with just a few words. "Don't lecture me about choices, Alaric. I came here because I don't have time for games. Meline is after me, and I need to know how much danger I'm in."

His eyes darkened at the mention of Meline's name, his jaw tightening. "You humiliated her in front of half the city. Of course, she's coming for you."

"I know that," Faye shot back, taking a step forward. "What I don't know is why you've dragged me here. If you want to play hero now, fine. But don't pretend this is for me."

Alaric's expression remained unreadable, but his gaze flickered, just for a second, to her stomach. Her heart clenched, fear clawing its way up her throat. He didn't know, did he?

"You're right," Alaric said, his voice low and even. "I'm not playing hero. I'm keeping you alive, Faye. And that means keeping you close."

Faye stiffened, her mind spinning. Keeping her close? What did that mean? She had come here to demand answers, to confront him about the threats piling up against her. But now, standing here, she realized just how far out of her depth she was.

"What do you really want, Alaric?" she asked, her voice softer now, but no less defiant. "I'm not your responsibility."

Something flickered in his eyes, a crack in the armor he always wore. "You're right. You're not."

For a brief moment, hope surged inside her—maybe he would let her go, maybe this was her chance to finally break free.

"But the city is dangerous right now," he continued, stepping closer, his gaze never leaving hers. "Meline is just one piece of the puzzle. You've made enemies, Faye, and I can't let you face them alone."

The room felt too small, the space between them shrinking until he was close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off him. Her mind screamed at her to leave, to get away before she fell into the same trap she always did.

But before she could respond, the door behind her clicked open, and Faye turned to see Nikos entering the room, his face grim. "We've got a problem."

"What kind of problem?" Alaric asked, his voice snapping back to business.

Nikos glanced at Faye before speaking. "Meline's people are already here. They've been watching the club since she arrived."

Alaric's jaw tightened. "How many?"

"Enough to cause a scene if we're not careful," Nikos replied. "We need to move, now."

Faye's heart pounded as the weight of the situation settled over her. She had walked right into a trap—maybe not Alaric's, but Meline's. And now there was no turning back.

Alaric turned to her, his eyes blazing with determination. "Stay close to me."

For once, Faye didn't argue.