Zion

“Do you have records of what they did after? Or if I can call them?” I ask, watching as Drexel paces the room, bored as I search through the files. “I have their names but nothing else.”

Drexel looks toward me, raising an eyebrow as I stand before him, needing the information. “All of those who quite the service are allowed to erase their information from the years of their arrive,” Drexel explains.

“What about where to contact, surly these women have a number or address I can reach them at?” I’m needing the information. “I need it.” But I already know Lillian is dead, as Trent told me. Or was he lying? Was he just saying she was dead, or is she?

Drexel shakes his head, letting out a deep sigh. My heart skips a beat as my stomach falls to my feet. “I can’t tell you that, Lady Sybil,” he explains, taking the file from my hands.

“And why not?” I ask, feeling myself grow annoyed that I cannot obtain the information. “I need this information as soon as possible.”

Drexel shakes his head, closing the file cabinet and begins walking towards the door. Looking over his shoulder, Drexel motions for me to leave with him. Why can’t I get the information? Why did these women want their information erased? Did they just want to be thrown off the face of the earth for no reason? Did Zion want one of their names terminated?

I follow Drexel, watching as the door shuts before me. “Thank you,” I say, my tone neutral, and my breathing heavy and stressed. I never got my answers really. Maybe te rogues would know? Maybe they would not, for why would rogues care for female warriors? Maybe if one of them was the mate of the Alpha King they would know about them?

As I leave the wing for the warriors, my thoughts are now focused upon if Alpha Finn will tell Zion what I did. Pulling my hair back, my hands run though my hair, stress taking over as I let out a deep sigh. If Zion ever finds out, I can only guess what he will think. Or even do.

Heading back to my room, I find Marisa packing the rest of my bags, fitting in things that still have tags on them. Whatever I’m packing for here, I know it’s just not the mission to gather those names up for the Senate, but it seems as if it’s a vacation. “How long until I leave?” I ask, watching as Marisa puts a pair of heels into the mix of items.

“King Zion will collect you in ten minutes I believe.”

Collect? She speaks as if I am some item to the King.

Am I though?

Am I really just some item to the King and nothing more?

“Marisa, how many days are you packing for?” I question, watching as she takes a flannel shirt out, one that does not look new, but work and dirty. For sure I’d need something older for when I seek out the ring leaders. She puts the older shirt into a bad, tucking it away with a pair of worn pants and combat boots. Of course they would stereotype rogues into people who cannot afford to dress themselves in anything more.

“I am packing for what the King instructed, Lady Sybil.”

I nod, getting the feeling that Marisa does not want to speak at all. The least Zion could have provided me with here could have been a maid that I could talk with.

As I get the outfit from the bed laid out for me, I head towards the bathroom. A dark wash pair of pants and cream blouse are all I change into, missing the days of unwashed sweatpants and a shirt with stains from long nights of binge watching. One simple braid done to my hair and I have my eyes glued to my reflection.

What have I become? Some doll for the King to parade around? I miss my days of simplicity, days where I could order a pizza and just watching something without having to feel fat.

“Sybil?”

Walking out, I meet Zion as one footman takes my luggage out of the room. “We leaving?” I ask, Zion taking my hand as I already know my answer.

As the gates to the palace open, I’m escorted into a navy Mercedes, our luggage put in the trunk as I hop into the back, following Zion. The driver takes off, driving us to the probate air strip for the flight to Florida.

A forty minute drive and I’m standing before a massive private jet, another behind it as a line of warriors load up into it. “Ready?” I turn to Zion, the wind blowing as our eyes meet. I’m either looking at a man I trust and want to marry, or a man who has lied and I’m about to marry.

Nodding, I follow the King into his jet, Gray, Alpha Nixon, and Alpha Cratos. As we enter the luxury of a plane, I’m faced with a beautiful flight attendant, smiling at me as she asks for my drink order. As Zion gets a whiskey, I just get some water, rolling my eyes on the inside if she asks if I care for it sparkling. Why the hell would it matter?

Taking my seat next to Zion, Gray sits across from me, crossing his arms as I inspect the tattoos on his arm. It’s beautiful work, one of a ship during a storm, the details precise. “Gray, do you have a family? Kids? Mate?” I ask, only to look to his neck to find a mark.

“Mates for three years with a two-year old daughter. My mate is the Beta’s sister of my pack.” I nod, knowing the ice breaker may be annoying him, but I don’t want to feel uncomfortable around him when my safety is on the line. “And you?”

I keep my mouth shut for some time, pondering what to reply with as Zion catches my uneasiness. “She has me for starters,” Zion intervenes, causing the conversation to come to an end.

As the plane takes off, Zion soon leaves the sitting area I’m in and heads over to where the other Alphas are, wanting to discuss business. “How long have you been a warrior for the pack?” I ask, starting up the conversation after a long and awkward spence.

“Five years now, six in two weeks,” he replies, meeting my gaze. He doesn’t seem to old to be honest, not my age at least for sure. “And how long have you been rogue?”

Still like a knife to the heart when you put it that way. I’m usually okay when people would rather say it harshly and add some words in, not ask politely. “Going on a long time for someone my age,” I explain, simply not wanting to even think about it. It’s true, how it’s a long time for someone my age. Most rogues go rogue by college age, leaving their pack against the traditional ways, heading out to explore as they become loners.

“How did it feel when you become rogue? When you knew your life would never be the same?”

That’s the unwritten rule of rogues: never ask another rogue what it felt like.

It was different for Gray, how he knew he would be going back to his pack. He’s acting about the mental pain, not the physical, for all rogues go through that. But Gray knows he will be back to his pack and family, meaning that he has never felt those emotions of never returning home.

“The physical pain you felt,” I begin, my voice cracking a bit as my eyes begin to water. “Imagine if that’s what your heart felt like as you knew you could never go home.” Gray nods, taking in the silence once again.

Gray stands up, heading towards the back of the plane as I’m left all alone. Looking over my shoulder, I see Zion laying back, eyes shut, arms crossed, and in a more secluded section of seating as the other Alphas talk.

The King looks at peace. The King looks vulnerable. Yet even in his sleep you can see a faint scowl, nothing more or less, except for the sharp features. Goddess those cheekbones could slice diamond.

I shut my eyes soon enough, not caring for staying awake any longer. Adjusting in my position, I pull in my knees, just wanting a blanket and some good music to listen to. Allowing myself to fall asleep, the sound of quieted chatter and thumping of my heart steadying me to sleep.

“Cream or sugar?”

I wake up right away, startled by the voice as my eyes shoot open.

The flight attendant stands there, smiling as she has a pot of coffee and a cup in her hands. “Miss?”

Sitting up in my seat, I look around to see the two Alphas packing up some papers, Zion fixing his suit jacket, and Gray listening to Alpha Nixon.

“Just a hint of sugar, please,” I tell the woman, gaining a nod and a warm cup of coffee. “Thank you.”

Looking out the window, I’m on surprised to find is on the ground and the warm sun outside. Goddess help me tonight. As I take a sip of the coffee, I welcome the caffeine as I need it.

Zion gets up, heading towards me as he adjusts his watch. “Ready?” I nod, taking Zion’s hand as he pulls me up to my feet. “Let’s go.”

The door opens and we make our way down a handful of steps, the warm weather shocking me. I forgot the Florida weather.

“When will I be headed to the ring?” I ask. I had given the location of the warehouse to Zion a day ago, after all, every rogue practically knows the address when you meet another rogue.

“By eight.”

Zion takes me into a different SUV, one of the six that have just pulled up. I have three hours to get ready and think of what to say and do at the ring tonight.

The whole ride is silent, only the view of the state to keep me entertained. Zion holds my hand the whole time, keeping it close as time passes bye. If anything I could wish for right now, it would we a burger, I haven’t had once since I went to the palace. Sure, they had the gourmet food, but nothing like the greasy kind that just makes your day one hundred times better.

In thirty minutes we arrive at a hotel, massive and beautiful, of course the kind Zion would want.

Heading towards the room for the stay, my thoughts are glued upon tonight. Countless things could occur there, not only because I’ll be there for contacts, but sometimes fights break out as well. Some rogues are the type most would think of, the criminals and betrayers of their family and friends.

Zion passes me a room key as the elevator door opens up, revealing the top floor filled with the Presidential Suite and other suites as well, the types Zion and the Alphas would get. Checking the number of my room, I walk past Zion, searching for the door.

The Alphas take the opposite turn from me; only Zion follows in pursuit. “So eager?” He asks, catching up as I find the door.

“Just want to get this over with,” I reply, my voice soft as I slide my key through. Stepping into the room, I look behind to see Zion following. I stop, giving him a confused look. “Don’t you want to head to your room? Get ready and all?”

Zion rolls his eyes, pushing past me and into the room as the bellboy brings in the bags. Thought the room is a sight for sore eyes with its ostentatious furniture and all, I’m more concentrated on what’s about to happen.

Throwing myself down and onto one of the couches, I simply close my eyes and listen as the bellboy leaves and Zion walks over to me. He stands over me for a matter of minutes, silent, and tense. I can feel the atmosphere tense as we stay still, both of us plundering how the rest of the day will go.

“Are you just going to stand there?” I question, rolling over and onto my stomach. “Or go and get yourself settled in?”

Soon I’m gotten up and told to go and get ready, Zion saying we are about to leave in a bit. I get myself up and grab my rogue clothes, heading into the bathroom. Pulling on a pair of worn and ripped jeans, I follow with the blue plaid flannel, lacing up my boots as I let my hair down. Already I’m nervous. Already I’m scared.

Pulling out my makeup bag, I push my hand past the cosmetics, grabbing the metal item. The dagger Keva gave me weeks ago. Pushing the weapon into my boot, I pull my pants leg over it, hiding the metal item as I head out the door. For sure no rogue even dares enter the ring without a weapon.

“Are you ready?”

As I open the door, I’m shocked. Leaning against the doorway, I cross my arms as Zion stands before me. “What?” Goddess these clueless and gorgeous men.

Who knew the King could pull off a pair of jeans and flannel that well. Like a badass vibe without the leather jacket look.

“Nothing,” I chirp, pushing off the doorframe as I pass by the King. He knows how to really look good. Without even trying. “Are we leaving now?”

Zion nods, grabbing a messenger bag from the bed, no doubt containing a weapon or two and some electronics. I swear these Alphas have made me feel like I’m in some Mission Impossible movie.

Just as Zion is about to open the door, I shake my head, pulling on his arm. Raising an eyebrow, the King turns around to me as I shake my head. “Hang on,” I mumble, just as I cup my face, brining it towards mine as I lay a gentle kiss upon his lips. Who could resist something so good? Not me for sure.

Pulling away, I see the King’s lips pull up and into a beautiful smile.

“Now we go.”

And now we go and face a situation that could claim my life. A situation that could give me answers to my parent’s deaths, one that could let me know who Zion’s mate is, and one that could let me know who I am about to marry.

Either I am to marry a man that I trust, or a devil that knows how to be irresistible.