Chapter 9

Miu’s POV

Despite every rational thought screaming at me to stay out of it, I found myself pressed against the cool stone wall by the back door entrance, eyes glued to the spectacle unfolding before me. Lena—moving with that grace, that authority… it was almost surreal.

Ten years. Ten long years since I had last seen her. And yet, here she was, more radiant, more commanding than anything I could have imagined. My chest tightened, and a shiver ran down my spine.

“You’ve grown into a far more wonderful woman than I ever dared to dream,” I whispered to myself, barely audible over the low murmur of the crowd. My fingers curled into a fist, my pulse racing—not from fear, not from nerves—but from the bittersweet ache of recognition.

I forced myself to stay in the shadows, to breathe quietly, yet every word she spoke, every smile she gave, pierced me like a thread connecting the past to this impossible present.

My thoughts were abruptly interrupted when another server burst through the door beside me, almost knocking me over.

“Hey! You there! They need help in the kitchen—some trash needs to be taken out!” he snapped, his voice sharp, impatient.

I nodded, muttering a quiet, “Got it,” even though my mind was still half with the scene inside.

Before stepping fully into the back door, I stole one last glance at Lena. She was laughing with a child now, her presence commanding but gentle, and for a heartbeat, it felt like nothing else in the world existed but her and that moment.

Then I forced my focus back to the task at hand, pushing the pull of the front hall aside as I disappeared into the kitchen.

I cursed under my breath, dragging the oversized trash bag with both hands. Why did I volunteer for this job now? The weight, the smell, the heat—it was all too much.

Finally, I reached the garbage dispenser, ready to dump it and be done. But then—

A hand clamped over my mouth, another pressed a piece of fabric against my face. My chest froze. The scent—familiar, sharp—made my lungs seize. No. Not now.

“Easy there, pretty thing,” a gruff voice said. “You’re not going anywhere.”

I struggled, kicking and twisting, but I knew the moment I inhaled, I’d be out cold in seconds.

“Careful with the face! That’s what she’s worth!” another man shouted from behind.

Panic surged, but I forced myself to think. I couldn’t overpower them—not like this—not now.

I sagged, letting my body go limp. “Ugh…mmph…” I mumbled through the cloth, feigning the slow fade of consciousness.

One of them chuckled. “Looks like she’s finally out. Good girl.”

Another added, “Let’s go, we already wasted so much time running around for this one.”

I felt their grip loosen slightly, their confidence giving me the opening I needed. Just a little longer… just until they underestimate me…

—–

Lena’s POV

I lingered a little longer than I probably should have, watching the children laugh at something small and silly. Their joy was fleeting, but for a moment, it felt whole—and I wanted them to feel that as long as possible.

Eventually, it was time to leave. The meal was being served, the plates lined up neatly, the chatter of the guests rising in the hall. I made my way toward the private exit at the back.

“My Queen, I apologize,” my attendant said softly, falling into step beside me. “The limousine is taking a little longer than expected. It should be here any minute.”

I shook my head, offering a faint smile. “It’s fine. I don’t mind waiting.”

I stepped outside, the evening air cool against my skin. My fingers instinctively touched the necklace around my neck. The pendant was small, almost insignificant, but it carried weight—memories, promises, and unspoken truths.

I found myself thinking of Matthew. I remembered one of the countless times he had confided in me, telling me his plans for the kingdom once he became king. How he wanted to provide proper medical care for those battling illnesses like cancer—children whose sickness stole their ability to simply enjoy life. How he dreamed of developing advanced studies and hospitals to ensure our people had the best care possible.

I let out a quiet sigh, speaking to the air as much as to myself. “Matthew… am I living up to your expectations as a queen?”

The wind was the only answer. I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of the crown settle across my shoulders.

But suddenly, the screeching of tires ripped through the air, snapping me from my thoughts. My heart jumped into my throat as I spun toward the source.

Two black vans barreled through the gates, their engines roaring like wild beasts. My stomach dropped.

Men—too many to count—clambered out, eyes scanning the courtyard with lethal intent. The royal guards immediately stiffened, hands hovering over their own weapons.

“Protect the Queen!” the head of security barked.

But then I saw her. A woman, slung over a broad shoulder like she was nothing more than a bag of grain. My chest clenched, my breath catching.

Before I could think, the woman twisted and wriggled free, landing on the ground and darting toward the exit.

“Grab her!” one of the men shouted, his voice harsh, sharp as a whip.

“Don’t let her escape!” another barked, running to cut her off.

She spun, swinging her fists and kicking wildly. “Let me go!” she yelled, her voice strained but defiant.

“Quiet, or I’ll shut you up myself!” one man hissed, closing in, his boots pounding against the stone.

But the numbers were against her—too many, too fast. She ducked a swing, rolled under a belt, scrambled to her feet, only to have another attacker block her path.

“I am not going back to that place!” she screamed, desperation threading through her voice.

My stomach twisted as I watched the scene unfolding like a nightmare in slow motion.

Adrenaline surged through me. My hands gripped the g*n on the guard standing next to me, and I didn’t hesitate. I ran toward the chaos, my heels barely keeping pace with my resolve, the royal guards scrambling behind me.

“Stop! Step away from her, now!” I shouted, voice cutting through the screaming and shouts.

A few of the men froze, their guns instinctively rising, aiming at me. I didn’t flinch. My gaze locked on the woman struggling against them, and my jaw tightened.

“Don’t shoot!” a harsh voice barked from the attackers’ side. “We don’t want attention!”

That split second of hesitation was enough. I lunged forward, swinging the gun to one of them, but he tried to tackle me. I sidestepped, feeling the heat of his arm brush past, and shoved him.

The rest of the attackers surged, fists and boots flailing, but I met them head-on. Adrenaline roared in my ears, my chest tight, but my resolve sharper than ever.

“I want everyone captured alive!” I barked, my voice slicing through the chaos. I didn’t even recognize the authority I carried, but in that moment, it was all that mattered.

The attackers hesitated—just for a heartbeat—and I seized it, stepping forward, gun raised, eyes locked on their leader.

Then, as if the realization hit them all at once, the leader shouted, sharp and furious, “Fall back! Now!”

Without a second thought, they scattered, pushing each other aside in their panic. The thrum of their boots, the clanging of van doors, and the screeching tires echoed behind them as they rammed the vans through the closed gate.

My guards and I didn’t chase. We didn’t need to. The battle had already been won, and the attackers were fleeing—leaving only the wreckage of their arrogance and the lingering hum of fear.

The chaos had barely faded, but the woman was nowhere in sight. My heart skipped a beat. “Search the area!” I barked at my men, eyes scanning every corner, every shadow.

Then I noticed it—a thin trail of blood, glistening in the moonlight, leading toward the garden. I decided to follow it, calling out, “Hey! Stay with me!”

My voice cut through the quiet that had settled over the grounds.

A cough answered me from a dark corner. I spun around and saw her—struggling, clutching her stomach, each step wobbly as she tried to make it past the bushes without leaning against anything.

My chest tightened. Who would be desperate enough to risk fleeing rather than asking for help? But before I could even process it, her body gave way.

I didn’t think. I dashed forward, closing the distance in a heartbeat, and caught her just as she toppled.

“Got you,” I murmured, wrapping my arms around her to keep her upright. Her weight was lighter than I expected, but the tension in her body, the tremor in her hands—it told me just how close she’d been to collapse.

I felt her push against me, weak but desperate. “Let… let go of me,” she rasped, her voice barely audible, strained with pain.

I held her tighter, refusing to let her slip away. “Miss, you’re wounded. You need help.” I pleaded, my hands pressing against her arms, trying to stabilize her.

She shook her head violently, as if sheer will alone could make me release her. “No… leave… me…”

Her stubbornness burned in me, but then I saw it—half her face battered, blood dripping from her nose and lips, matted hair clinging to her cheeks. Her eyelids fluttered, and I couldn’t tell if she could even see me through the haze.

And then, it hit me—tears, streaking her bloodied face. Shimmering in the dim light. “Please… let me go…” she whispered, voice breaking, a brittle crack that splintered through my chest.

Her body went slack, like a marionette with its strings cut. Panic surged, but I was fast enough—I caught her before she hit the ground, her limp weight pressing against me, fragile and human in a way that made my chest ache.

I held her close, trembling hands trying to keep her upright, whispering fiercely, “No. Not yet. You’re not going anywhere.”

The world felt like it had narrowed to just the two of us, the chaos, the blood, the shadows—all fading behind the urgency of keeping her alive, of keeping her from slipping from my grasp.