Landon’s father reared his arm back and struck my Knight across his face. Landon’s head whipped to the side. The force of his father’s blow threw him off balance, and he stumbled before landing on his knees.
“Landon!” I screamed again.
His father didn’t stop. He stepped closer, leaning over his body and shouting words I couldn’t make out from the distance. Landon shouted up at him, fighting to get his bearings and get to his feet.
I stepped without thinking.
The world pitched, tumbling around me as I slipped on the ledge and fell. I shrieked, bringing my arms up to shield my face and bracing for impact.
I hit the ground with a sickening thud.
The wind knocked out of me. Pain ricocheted through my body, and my skin burned everywhere it touched the ground, skin tearing over gravel as I cried out.
“Quinn!”
Gia’s voice called from the crowd, and I lifted my head to find her stepping toward me.
I flicked my gaze to Victoria, who watched Gia with a wicked gleam in her eyes and that fucking smirk on her face.
“Gia, don’t!” I croaked out a hoarse cry, sure that if Gia tried to help, Victoria would cry foul play.
Gia froze, and when I looked between her and Victoria, she followed my gaze before narrowing her eyes on the bitch. I turned my head to find Kingston and Max, standing tense beside the obstacle.
I met Max’s gaze, then Kingston’s. “Landon.”
His eyes widened, and he searched the area before spotting them. He took off, as Max stood there silently, unable to help either. Not just because of the rules, but because of the eyes I had no doubt were trained on him from behind me.
Forcing a smile, I rested my head on my arm and waited for the pain to pass.
Then, I got up to finish the goddamn course.
I pushed up from the ground, brushing off my knees and wincing at the sting from the gravel embedded in my torn flesh. Each step forward hurt. But whether I hobbled, crawled, or strutted my stuff over to it, I was ringing that goddamn bell.
The chatter from the crowd died down as I approached. I glanced at Gia, face drawn tight with worry, she scanned myinjuries. Smiling at her, or grimacing most likely, I tried to reassure her despite my current state.
Knees and elbows bloodied. Palms shredded and bright red. With strands of hair flying wildly around my face, I was the picture of a perfect fucking Lady.
As I approached Drake D’Arthur, he stood in his pristine, pressed three-piece suit, almost identical to Kingston’s but in a darker navy blue.
Narrowing his eyes, he pressed his lips together as he tracked my progress toward him.
He lifted his chin as I grew closer, the corner of his mouth drawing in as he waited to see what I’d do next. LikeIwas the small brown bear coming to tear into his flesh.
I stalked toward him. With a secret smile on my face, I thought of all the ways I’d love to destroy him.
Sitting on his fake throne, with stolen power and a bloodied, iron fist, he wielded absolute power like he’d been born to have it.
But Morty’s words from that night in the parlor ran through my head. He wasn’t supposed to be there.
He didn’t belong.
And yet, there he was.
Just like me.
When I reached him, I gripped the wooden beam and straightened my spine. I stood slowly, as if stacking one vertebra on top of the other until I reached my full height.
He stared down his nose at me, sneering. “This won’t mean you belong here.”
