Sansa's POV
Just as Koa was turning to face me, I suddenly got pushed to the side by strong arms. I barely had a moment to catch my breath from the push, before I started being dragged toward the next hallway that led to the exit of the palace, confusing the hell out of me.
And I knew it wasn't the palace guard, because the people dragging me weren't wearing their uniforms. Just then, I caught sight of one of the palace guards—the one who had escorted me inside. He was wheeling the luggage away.
"Hey! Bring that back!" I found myself yelling, despite being dragged roughly.
"Bitch, you better shut your mouth before I shut it for you,"
I didn't need to turn at the sound of the voice to know who had spoken.
It was the restaurant owner. He seemed to be following from behind as I was being dragged out, which made me realize the men currently dragging me were his men. The same ones from the car.
My gaze shifted to the guard, who was slowly disappearing into one of the many hallways.
"But I still have to give Chelly her clothes as payback for what happened at the restaurant." I tried to reason with Jackson, my eyes still fixed on the guard who was taking away my ticket of survival along with him.
"She won't be needing it anymore," Jackson said, releasing a slow, heavy breath. One that was thick with the smell of cigarettes.
"The Beta just called the palace. His daughter was in a car accident. The maids are everywhere, gossiping. They are all saying the same thing." He tilted his head slightly, almost bored. "The bitch is dead."
The words hit harder than the hands dragging me.
Cold flooded my body, so sharp and sudden, like my blood had been drained in one pull. So much had already happened tonight enough to tell me my life had shifted into something ugly and unrecognizable. But this… this sealed it. There was no going back now.
A broken sound tore out of my chest before I could stop it. I started crying, my legs giving way, my weight going slack as if my body no longer wanted to cooperate with a world this cruel. My feet scraped painfully against the ground, but the men didn't slow. They dragged me anyway.
"What the fuck are you crying for?" Jackson asked once we were outside.
He stepped in front of me, blocking my view. Up close, the smell of smoke clung to him. He scoffed.
"Over Chelly? Of all people?" His lips curled in disgust. "Be fucking serious."
I paid him no mind. Now that I was outside the palace, I began to hear murmurs from every direction. The rumors reached my ears from guards and maids nearby, overlapping, careless. And none of them were good. They were all about Chelly.
None of them sounded sober. None of them sounded like grief.
They sounded enthusiastic.
Pleased.
I wanted to scream the truth about my predicament, to tell them what had really happened. But no one would believe me. And even if they somehow did, it wouldn't matter. They all hated me.
The Moon Goddess made them all hate me.
With that thought, another wail escaped my lips.
Louder this time.
I let myself crash to the ground. The whispers stopped. I felt eyes turn toward me, their gazes heavy and curious. But that didn't stop me. If anything, it made the crying worse.
"What the…" Jackson looked petrified at my sudden outburst, and even more so at the fact that people were staring now. He forced small smiles in their direction, the kind that promised everything was fine.
Then he lowered himself beside me and placed a hand on my back, slow and pretending to be comforting.
But his next words weren't.
"If you don't shut that mouth up, I'm going to give you something to be crying about."
He sounded like he meant it.
Still, I couldn't stop myself.
When he realized the threat wasn't enough, his hand slid into my hair, gripping hard as he tilted my head up. He was about to press his cigarette to my forehead when a voice cut in.
"What's going on here??"