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“Not Declan.”
Her face crumpled further, tears tracking down through the blood smeared along her cheek.
“It’s Bellaruso.”
My stride broke. My brain tripped over the nickname. My chest tightened, breath catching halfway and stuttering. Bellaruso. Isabella. Not my princess?
Absolutely not.
My brain refused to process it. I rushed, closing the distance between us, and stopped short of them. My hands curled into fists at my sides.
“Isabella is supposed to be on her way home,” I said, the words coming out in a rush. “We have a family meeting.”
But even as I said the words, pain twisted in my gut. Tori was wrong. She had to be. Tori shook her head before burrowing into Marcel once more. Please, God—Isabella hadn’t picked up my calls earlier.
My vision blurred for a second. The sting behind my eyes was sharp and unwelcome. Horrified, my entire world spun. A rough heave tore through me as I fought to steady my breathing.
“My princess? Is she okay?” The words came out rough, barely controlled. “What about the babies?”
“Babies?” he snapped. “What fucking babies? What the hell happened to my sister?”
His eyes locked onto mine like I had the answers. I dragged my gaze back to Victoria, ignoring him, because he didn’t matter right now. Only Bella mattered.
“Tori,” I said again, stepping closer, my hands hovering uselessly at my sides because I didn’t know where to put them, what to do.
“My girls?”
Marcel’s head shook slowly. Beside him, Tori broke. And not just with tears. She caved, her knees buckling as a sound tore out of her that didn’t sound human. It was raw. Uncontained and filled with grief.
Her hands clutched at Marcel like he was the only thing keeping her upright, her face pressed into his body as she shook harder. I couldn’t look away. My breath hitched, cutting off sharp as if someone had sliced a knife into my lungs.
The air wouldn’t come back in right, coming in short, useless pulls that didn’t reach deep enough.
“What happened?”
“It was Hannah,” Tori said.
My head whipped up, and I blinked. The words didn’t connect.
“No—”
It came out under my breath, barely there. I bent forward, bracing my hands on my thighs as my vision blurred at the edges. The room spun, making it hard to stay grounded. My stomach dropped, a sick, hollow feeling spreading fast. Everything I’d been refusing to acknowledge finally forced its way in.
“Kinsley… killed Han-Hannah.”
Her words stopped, broke off, and more gut-wrenching sobs erupted.
Kinsley killed Hannah. Kinsley? My brain tried to rearrange the words to make them make sense.
“What?” I breathed, more to myself than anyone else.
“There was so much blood… everywhere…Kinsley saved her,” Tori added, her voice softening as she lifted her head just enough to look at Marcel, seeking approval.
“She did good, right? She saved Bella, Andy. That’s good. We have to tell them.”
“The Kings will. Christopher is already meeting them down at the police station.”
The echo of Tori’s words kept vibrating in my ears. I lurched sideways. My shoulder slammed hard into the drywall with a heavy thud. I braced my forearm against the molding.
