bit of peace, the room detonating into violence and chaos. Bodies hurled at each other like a stampede, shoving me down to the ground with a smack.
“Spencer!” I heard Hazel scream for me, her hand trying to reach for mine, but the throng carted her farther away from me.
“Hazel!” Shoes crushed down on my arms and legs, a cry tearing from my throat as I tried to get back up. No one cared as they trampled over me. Fear pounded in my ears, my lungs struggling to take gulps of air. Crawling, I slid my body through a puddle of blood over the sticky floor, trying to escape the crushing horde fighting and screaming.
Pain exploded through my nerves as a huge figure fell over me, slamming my head into a post, my brain spinning. More and more feet and legs were kicking and stepping on me. Blood trailed down my nose and temple as I curled in a ball, pain twisting bile up my throat, darkness creeping around my vision. I heard of people dying this way. It always sounded so tragic. Being stomped to death because no one took a moment to stop or help.
Would this be my story? How Spencer Sutton died, trampled by people like a herd of caribou? Sounded about right.
“Blimey hell,” a deep voice growled in my ear, hands roughly grabbing me. My lids parted enough to see a familiar face snarling down at me like this was entirely my fault. “The wannabe princess already needs her arse saved.”
Lennox’s arms moved underneath me, picking me up, knocking back people as they rammed into us as he rose.
“Fuck you,” I tried to spit at him but came out more a slurred mess. I attempted to wiggle out of his arms, but his muscles locked in around me, his strength too much for me to fight.
“Now, that would be highly inappropriate.” His gravelly voice was filled with annoyance and disgust.
Fury bubbled in my chest, my pride wanting to lash out, but his body was warm, and my lids drooped as the adrenaline dropped away, allowing the pain to consume my bones. My head throbbed, feeling like a blade was being jabbed through my temple.
He held me tight, shoulder checking anyone daring to step in his way, moving and gliding through the crown like a trained assassin.
“Theo? Eloise… Hazel?” I fought to say each name, my body shutting down.
“They are all fine. It’s just you who didn’t get out,” he replied dryly. Relief closed my eyes, my ear pressing against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.
“Bloody hell. Spencer!” I heard my name being called, but Theo’s voice whisked by me like a dream, sleep tugging me into safety.
Chapter 9
A dream of being trampled bolted me awake, and I lurched up, my gaze taking in the early dawn. The sky was barely hinting of light, casting the large room in heavy shadows. Fear gripped my throat, my cloudy head not understanding where I was. Chandeliers, tapestries, paintings, wallpaper in delicate flowers, with heavy white adorned furniture. Over the top, expensive, but greatly outdated in modern times.
Royal Palace. The Queen Anne room.
Every muscle ached, and my head throbbed, reminding me that my dream had been real. The fight in the club, which had started out as a fun night, turned chilling in moments. Glancing down at myself, I noticed I had been left in my clothes, which were sticky with blood and other substances from that disgusting floor I didn’t even want to think about.
Lennox had found me. Carried me out like some damsel in distress, which had me livid. I was anything but helpless.
“The wannabe princess already needs her arse saved.” His comment sizzled fury up my spine. I would be fine with Dalton or any of the other bodyguards getting me out. Thankful. But not him. He made me feel like it was some weakness I got shoved down and trampled on. Like I was some feeble little girl who couldn’t handle the “real” world.
Feck him.
Dealing with him was a reality because of Theo, but to me, he would be no more than walking armor in the background.
He’s just another person here who doesn’t think you belong.
I wanted to go home. This place felt cold and empty of comfort and love. Like the queen herself, beautiful but unapproachable and reserved. Even the room didn’t seem to want me here. My eyes slid to the armoire full of clothes, the borrowed boots on the ground,