He Chose A Fake Heiress Over His True Queen

The explosion didn't register as a sound.

It hit me as a physical force-a concussive punch to the chest that evacuated the oxygen from the room in a single, violent instant.

Glass didn't just shatter; it vaporized.

Screams tore through the air, instantly replacing the polite applause.

Gunfire erupted from the mezzanine-a rhythmic, mechanical pop-pop-pop that sent the criminal elite scrambling like rats in a cage.

The shockwave swept my legs out from under me.

I hit the floor hard.

Dust and pulverized drywall rained down, coating my tongue in chalk.

I coughed, struggling to push myself up, but my ears were ringing with a high-pitched whine that drowned out my own voice.

"Jax!"

The name ripped from my throat.

It was a reflex.

A fatal habit.

My eyes snapped toward the stage.

Above the center platform, the massive crystal chandelier groaned, swinging dangerously on a snapped chain.

Jax was there.

He was already on his feet, his sidearm drawn, scanning the upper levels with lethal precision.

Then, he looked at me.

For a split second, our gaze locked through the haze of plaster dust.

I was on the floor, exposed, a sitting duck near the main exit where the shooters were converging.

Above him, the metal groaned again.

Chloe was cowering behind a podium, screaming, her hands over her head.

Jax didn't hesitate.

He didn't come for me.

He turned his back.

He threw his body over Chloe, shielding her completely, and dragged her toward the reinforced safe room behind the stage.

The chandelier gave way.

It didn't hit them.

It swung wide, crashing into the floor near me and sending a tidal wave of crystal shards and twisted metal in my direction.

I tried to scramble back, clawing at the carpet.

I wasn't fast enough.

A heavy brass fixture slammed into my shins.

I heard the wet snap of bone a second before the pain registered.

Then, a jagged shard of crystal the size of a butcher knife sliced across my neck.

Hot wetness immediately flooded my collarbone.

Blood.

So much blood.

Darkness clawed at the edges of my vision, threatening to pull me under.

But I didn't pass out.

The agony wouldn't let me.

I lay there for what felt like hours-though it must have been mere minutes-until the gunfire ceased.

Security teams swarmed the room like angry hornets.

"Clear! Sector clear!"

Two guards heaved the debris off my crushed legs.

I screamed, the sound wet and gurgling in my throat.

They didn't use a stretcher. They dragged me-literally dragged me-to the family's private medical suite in the back of the hotel.

The room was bright, sterile, and chaotic.

And Jax was there.

He was pristine. Unhurt.

He stood by a bed, holding Chloe's hand.

She had a small cut on her forehead. A scratch.

He was dabbing it with a tenderness that made my stomach turn.

"It's okay," he murmured to her, his voice low. "You're safe. The heir is safe."

A doctor was stitching my neck. No anesthesia. There wasn't time.

I gritted my teeth, hot tears leaking from the corners of my eyes.

"Jax..." I rasped.

He turned.

His face hardened the moment he saw me.

"You're alive," he said flatly.

"You left me," I whispered, the betrayal stinging worse than the needle. "You chose her."

Chloe looked at me then. Her eyes held no fear. They were triumphant.

She whimpered, clutching Jax's bicep. "Jax, she's looking at me like she wants to kill me. It's scaring the baby."

Jax's jaw tightened.

"Savvy, stop it," he snapped. "Stop being dramatic. We had to secure the high-value targets first. That's protocol."

"I'm not a target," I choked out. "I'm... I was..."

"You're jealous," he cut me off, his voice dripping with disgust. "And it's pathetic. Look at you. Bleeding all over the floor, making a scene while my fiancée is in shock."

He turned to the guards, dismissing me with a wave of his hand.

"Get her out of here. She's upsetting Chloe."

"Sir, her leg-" one guard started.

"I said get her out!" Jax roared. "Put her in the courtyard to cool off until the transport arrives. I don't want to see her face."

The guards hesitated, terrified, then obeyed.

They dumped me into a wheelchair.

They pushed me roughly through the double doors, out into the biting cold of the night air.

The cobblestones were uneven.

The guard pushed too hard.

The front caster jammed into a drainage grate.

The chair tipped.

I flew forward.

My head slammed into the stone rim of the central fountain.

The impact was blinding.

I felt the fresh stitches in my neck burst open.

Warm blood sprayed over the cold water, swirling into the fountain.

I couldn't move. My broken leg was twisted beneath me at a sickening angle.

Jax stepped out onto the balcony above.

He looked down at me, sprawled in my own blood.

"You're a mess, Savvy," he called down, the flare of his lighter illuminating his cold face. "A liability. If you can't handle the life, maybe you should just leave."

He turned and walked back inside to his pregnant fiancée.

I lay on the freezing stones, staring up at the uncaring stars.

Something inside me finally snapped.

And for once, it wasn't a bone.

It was the tether that had bound me to him for seven agonizing years.

"Savvy?"

A shadow fell over me.

Ben Miller.

Jax's second-in-command. My brother's best friend before my brother was buried.

He knelt beside me, his hands shaking as they hovered over my broken body.

"Jesus Christ," he whispered. "He's lost his mind."

"Help me," I gasped. "Not... to the hospital. Away. Get me away."

Ben looked up at the balcony where Jax had disappeared.

Then he looked back at me, broken and bleeding on the ground.

"Okay," he said, his voice hardening into steel. "Okay."

He didn't wait for a stretcher. He scooped me up in his arms.

He didn't take me to the family doctors.

He carried me to his personal sedan, bypassing the security checkpoint with a sharp nod to the gate guards.

He threw a heavy duffel bag into the backseat.

"There's cash," he said, firing the engine. "And a passport I made for you three years ago. Just in case."

I looked at him through swollen, tear-filled eyes.

"Why?"

"Because you're not a dog, Savvy," Ben said, peeling out of the lot, leaving rubber on the pavement. "And he just treated you worse than one."

I leaned my head against the cool glass.

I watched the lights of the gala fade into the distance.

I was bleeding out.

I was broken.

But I was leaving.

And I swore, if I survived this, the Savvy who loved Jax Vetti would die in that fountain tonight.