We spun around and faced his father.
Drake D’Arthur narrowed his eyes on us, head tilting as he assessed our positions. Kingston’s hand on my shoulder. My hand locked around his wrist.
He sneered in my direction, hatred spewing from his voice as he tightened the tie around his neck. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything, son.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Icame to in a room I didn’t recognize. Fighting an attacker I couldn’t see. My legs flailed as I kicked out, tangling in the covers wrapped around me.
I went still. My heart beat wildly in my chest.
But I wasn’t inside the Round Tableau anymore.
Ben was gone. He couldn’t hurt me.
And whoever had saved me had disappeared, too.
“Quinn!”
Landon and Kingston rushed forward, both careful not to jostle me as they reached the bed. Blinking at the ceiling, I waited for the haze in my vision to clear. I met their concerned gazes, worry etched sharply into their expressions as they scanned my face and body.
My pulse slowed.
I was safe.
Forcing a dry swallow, my throat scratched like I’d ingested sandpaper. I rasped, “Water?”
Landon sat beside me and reached for the bedside table. As he held a glass out in front of me, Kingston remained standing, keeping his distance. His posture was stiff with tension.
I forced a smile, but it couldn’t erase what had just happened.
It was too much. I didn’t want to think about what could’ve happened if I hadn’t had the knife.
Avoiding his gaze, I surveyed the bedroom I’d woken up in, squinting at the familiarity I couldn’t place. Aside from the missing piece of our puzzle, déjà vu from waking up after being drugged washed over me.
“We have to stop meeting like this.” I tried to laugh, needing to distract myself as I sat up to take the water from Landon. Sharp pain flared in my side, and I winced. “Oh, fuck, that hurts.”
The concern in their gazes told me jokes were the last thing they needed right now. Landon scoured my face and body as if he’d developed X-ray vision, scanning for hidden injuries. Kingston’s pained expression, torn like he wanted to come closer, hit hardest.
“Your father is here.”
He nodded.
Guilt flashed through me at the thought of them learning I was unconscious and hurt—again—and at bringing Drake D’Arthur back to Pendragon.
Because I’d gotten in that golf cart.
Everything filtered back in slowly. Ben tricking me into going to Winchester Hall. Being led to the Round Tableau. My knife. The blood.
“There was so much blood.”
Kingston stepped forward. “You did what you had to do.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “We’re just glad you’re alright.”
Landon nodded, taking my hand.
