Vicious Prince (Royal Elite #5)(11)

Dad and Agnus are chatting about business and stocks. Ronan whispers something to Knox — probably about the ‘usual’ parties — and they both laugh under their breaths.

Elsa keeps sending me pleading signals over the table even as she speaks to Charlotte.

Me? There’s this black smoke that keeps swirling around my head and a shadow perching on my shoulder.

I can’t fight it off as I watch him, hear him, his voice with that distinguishable tenor. It’s changed a little, but it has been more than a decade, after all.

He’s still the same: confident, arrogant, and a wolf in a sheep’s clothing.

Back then, I could do nothing about it.

Now, I’ll slaughter his legacy, crush his name, and make him bleed.

My phone vibrates in my jacket and I pull it out under the table, thinking it’s a notification from one of the newsletters I’m signed up for, or perhaps the club. My heart flutters at the thought. It’s a long shot, but what if they accept me? What if they —

My shoulders drop when I see the screen.

It’s a text from Ronan.

My attention slides to him. He’s still joking and playing with Knox across the table; when the hell did he have time to text?

Also, I have no clue how he got my number, though this isn’t the first time he’s texted me. He sent me one last night, too.

Today’s text says:

Ronan: Do as agreed.

I scroll up to last night’s texts.

Ronan: My father will ask if you agree to this engagement, and you’ll apologise and say you don’t. If you feel like it, some tears are encouraged, but it’s not mandatory.

Teal: Why would I do that?

Ronan: Because if you don’t, I’ll figure out your secret and crush you with it until you wish you’d never gotten in my way. Mmmkay?

Teal: What makes you think I have a secret?

Ronan: We all do, ma belle. Some are just more destructive than others.

I didn’t reply to his last message, and I don’t plan to reply to this one.

Sure, secrets are scary, but there’s no way in hell he’ll be able to figure out mine. Even Knox doesn’t know all about it, and that says something since we’ve shared everything since our mother’s womb.

As soon as I tuck my phone in my jacket, Edric’s cool, posh voice fills the dining room. “As you’re all aware, we’re here to start a relationship between our families. I’m honoured to have ties to you, Ethan.”

Dad tips his head. “So am I, Edric.”

The latter smiles, and I tighten my hold on the napkin in front of me. “Before that, we have to get the youngsters’ approval — modern times and everything. Ronan, do you agree to be engaged to Teal?”

His son’s lips curve in an almost manic smile. “Of course. It’d be my honour.”

His honour?

The fucking liar.

Why does he get to fake his feelings so perfectly like that? Why can’t I do that?

“Teal?” Edric asks and it takes everything in me not to rise out of my seat and lunge at him with a fork — or better yet, a knife.

My gaze focuses back on Ronan, who’s watching me with that same smile.

“Absolutely.” I mimic his smile. “It’s an honour.”

Congratulations scatter all around us, but the one I focus on isn’t Agnus as I initially thought I would. No — it’s the boy with a previously disgusting symmetrical face.

Previously because I can’t conjure the disgust anymore, no matter how much I try to.

His smile is still in place, but his entire demeanour sharpens. His eyes darken, his shoulders strain, and his hold on the spoon tightens.

Those are all small, almost imperceptible changes, but the signs are there, and they point to one thing.

The start of a war.

Wars are Death’s playground. It’s where he harvests souls and leaves the remaining ones desolate.

You’re always a victim of war, whether by losing a loved one or your property or both.

And right now, Ronan appears ready to make me lose everything.

Not that I’m scared of him. I’m not. Because what he doesn’t know is that I’m also ready to make him lose everything.

His hand disappears under the table, and soon after, my phone vibrates in my pocket.

I hold it in my lap and read the text.

Ronan: You made your hell, and now I’ll ruin you.

Not as much as I’ll ruin you.

I meet his glare with one of my own as I type.

Teal: Bring it.





5





Ronan





The team comes to a halt after the assistant manager calls for a time out.

The air is grim like the grey clouds, and the school’s pitch appears like a scene from an apocalypse — minus the bodies.

Our football team attracts all the ladies’ attention. They always appear at our practice, calling our names and cheering us on. I grin at them as they stand by the sidelines, and they wave and scream my number, thirteen.

That’s right — my number. Needless to say, I’m the most popular. My fucker friends can claim otherwise, but they’re wrong, so they don’t count.

I head to the bench with Aiden and Cole and snatch a bottle of water before Cole can get it. I’m in the middle of downing it when I meet those black eyes that should belong in some gothic tale about black magic and sucking people’s souls into nothingness.