Ethan too
1191 Words
Within seconds, the garden, once a place of silence, was suddenly suffocating with movement, urgency, and fear.
At the center of it all, the King lay motionless on the rain-damp grass.
And beside him, soaked in blood and trembling uncontrollably, was a girl no one recognized.
“Your Majesty!”
The butler forced his way through the crowd, dropping to his knees beside the King with none of his usual composure. His hands hovered for only a second before pressing against the King's neck, desperately searching for anything.
The tension in his shoulders said everything before he even spoke.
“He’s gone.”
The words were quiet, but they rippled outward, silencing the immediate space around him before the realization detonated across the garden.
Voices rose all at once.
Disbelief. Anger. Panic.
Lights snapped toward the girl, harsh beams pinning her where she sat.
She recoiled instantly, curling into herself, arms wrapped tightly around her body as if she could make herself smaller, disappear entirely beneath the weight of their attention.
“Who are you?” someone demanded, stepping forward.
She didn't answer.
She looked barely capable of breathing, let alone speaking.
“Secure her,” another person ordered, his voice cutting through the noise.
Two guards moved immediately, grabbing her by the arms and dragging her upright. She struggled weakly, her legs unsteady beneath her, her voice breaking as she tried to speak, but whatever words she formed were swallowed by the storm of voices around her.
As she was pulled away, the focus shifted back to the fallen King.
The guards surrounding him straightened. Some lowered their heads. Others murmured quiet prayers beneath their breath.
A stretcher was brought with urgency but handled with reverence, as though even now he remained untouchable by anything careless.
They lifted him gently, placing him onto it with a care that bordered on ritual.
The butler lingered the longest.
His hands trembled as he reached out and slowly closed the King's eyes, shutting away the lifeless stare.
His expression didn't break, but the grief in it was unmistakable.
“How did this happen…” someone whispered nearby.
The question hung unanswered in the heavy air.
A man standing behind them clenched his jaw.
“Whoever is responsible will answer for this.”
---
By morning, the entire palace felt different.
The sky was a dull, unmoving gray, as though the world itself refused to brighten.
Deep beneath it all, far removed from the polished halls and warm chambers, she sat in a place meant for the worst of criminals.
The cell was cold, unforgiving stone pressing in from every side. The only light came from a harsh beam fixed directly above her.
She sat curled into herself in the corner, knees drawn tightly to her chest, rocking slightly without realizing it.
Her mind kept looping over the same fragments.
This had to be a dream.
It didn't feel like one.
The smell of blood still clung to her, metallic and suffocating. Every time her thoughts slowed even slightly, the image forced its way back in.
The King's face.
His empty eyes.
The blood.
Her hands.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
“No…”
The door burst open.
Boots crossed the stone floor, and she was dragged out before she could even process what was happening.
“Who are you?” the first voice demanded.
“Who sent you?”
“What was your motive?”
“Where is your accomplice?”
The questions came one after another, sharp and relentless, giving her no space to think. No space to breathe.
“I…”
Her voice cracked.
“I didn't…”
“Speak clearly. Your name.”
“Lil…” Her lips trembled. “Lilith.”
The men exchanged brief looks.
Confusion flickered across their faces.
Nothing about this made sense.
Not the girl.
Not her presence.
Not how she had gotten past layers of security and into the royal wing.
“How did you get in there?” one of them demanded.
She shook her head weakly, tears spilling freely now.
“I don't know. I was asleep in bed. I just woke up there.”
She genuinely didn't know.
“Past the guards? Into the royal wing? Into the King's private garden?” another man pressed, disbelief sharpening his tone. “That doesn't just happen, explain yourself!.”
“I didn't do it,” she whispered again.
The words sounded fragile even to her own ears.
“I don't know how I got there.”
“Then why were you there?”
“I was sleeping…” Her voice broke. “In the room.”
“What room?”
“Theo's.”
The man leading the questioning went still.
His gaze narrowed as he studied her more carefully this time, reassessing everything.
“The Prince's chambers?” he repeated slowly.
She nodded, desperation overtaking her fear.
“Please… where is he? Can you call him? Please, just tell him to come.”
A dry, humorless scoff answered her.
“You think you have the right to make demands?”
She flinched hard, the last bit of composure slipping away.
“I'm not lying,” she whispered.
The man studying her didn't look convinced.
If anything, her desperation seemed to harden something in his expression.
He leaned back slightly, folding his arms as though the pieces were already beginning to arrange themselves in his mind.
“So let me understand this.”
His voice was slow and cold.
“You're some Omega mutt the Prince picked up to warm his bed…”
Lilith's face burned.
“…and while you were here, you somehow ended up in the King's private garden, beside his murdered body.”
“I didn't—”
“And now you're telling us you don't know how you got there.”
“I didn't kill him!”
His gaze sharpened.
“Then explain yourself.”
She swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling too quickly.
“Theo is my mate,” she said, the words tumbling out between sobs. “He brought me here. I was sleeping. I don't know how I got there…”
The room fell quiet for half a second.
Then the man spoke again.
“Your accomplice.”
Lilith stared at him.
“What?”
“Who is it?”
“I don't have one.”
He didn't seem to hear her.
“You take the King,” he said, piecing the accusation together aloud. “And your partner goes after his son.”
Her breath caught.
“What… what do you mean?”
His expression remained cold.
“The younger prince.”
Lilith's heart stumbled.
“He was thrown from his bedroom window several floors down.”
For a second, everything inside her went completely still.
“Ethan?”
The name tore out of her.
Sharp.
Disbelieving.
More tears spilled immediately as her entire body recoiled as though she'd been struck.
Ethan.
Theo's little brother.
Thrown from a building.
Her stomach twisted violently.
Not only was the King dead.
Theo's brother had been attacked too.
And somehow, they thought she had done that as well.
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