Chapter 100: Is she a part of...them?

Chapter 100: Chapter 100: Is she a part of...them?

Skye wrapped both arms around Rue’s neck and pulled her back down, lips brushing against her jaw.

"Don’t worry about anything else. Just focus on me."

"Shut up," Rue muttered, but there was no real heat in it.

She crushed her mouth against Skye’s again—harder this time, more demanding. The kiss turned rough almost immediately: teeth catching on lower lips, tongues sliding deep, hands gripping and pulling. Skye’s soft, broken moan spilled into Rue’s mouth when fingers dug into her hip.

Another lower, hungrier sound followed as Rue shifted their bodies and pressed her down more firmly into the mattress. The wet sound of their mouths and the quiet, desperate noises Skye couldn’t fully hold back filled the room.

Even so, Rue’s instincts still prickled. Something had moved.

Outside the door, Amelia stood frozen in the hallway, heart hammering.

Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh.

She could barely process what she had just seen.

The person Skye had been talking about all this time... had been Rue. The same Rue who had spent two weeks tearing her apart with a whip. The same Rue who still looked at her like she wanted her gone.

It was an insane plot twist.

Amelia was deeply grateful neither of them had noticed her. If Rue had caught even a glimpse of her standing there, she was fairly certain she would already be dead.

But the larger question settled heavily in her chest as she finally forced her feet to move.

Skye knew how much Rue hated her. Rue had made no secret of wanting her removed somehow. Amelia was already convinced that at least some of the recent misfortunes had Rue’s fingerprints on them.

What she didn’t know—and what suddenly felt dangerous to wonder about—was whether Skye was quietly supporting those efforts.

Amelia kept walking, thoughts still tangled.

Skye and the maids are the only ones who have access to my room...

The possibility slipped in before she could stop it.

Could Skye have—

She shook her head hard, as if the motion alone could scatter the thought.

No. She couldn’t think that. She might not know Skye particularly well, but she refused to believe it. It had to be the maids. Someone else. Anyone else.

She was so deep in the spiral that she never noticed the quiet footsteps behind her.

Reid had spotted her heading toward the upper floor and followed out of simple curiosity. When he drew close enough, he leaned in slightly and spoke in that familiar, teasing drawl.

"Hey, sugar."

Amelia screamed.

The sound tore out of her in pure fright. Her body jerked, balance gone in an instant, and she pitched backward—

Reid’s arm shot out and caught her cleanly.

One strong hand settled firm right at the small of her back while the other locked around her waist, pulling her so tight against his chest her feet almost lifted off the floor. They ended up just inches apart, her hands instinctively clutching the front of his shirt to keep her balance.

The whole position looked almost staged—intimate, dramatic, the exact kind of near-dip that belonged on a romance novel cover instead of a quiet upstairs hallway.

Reid’s mouth curved into a slow, charming smile as he looked down at her.

"Did I just sweep you off your feet?"

Amelia immediately pushed against his chest and pulled herself free, putting a clear step of distance between them.

"You’re crazy."

Reid didn’t look the least bit offended. "Completely deranged for you."

She didn’t answer. She simply continued walking down the hallway.

Reid fell into step behind her. "Were you thinking of ditching all of us? Is that why you came to your maid’s room?"

Amelia shot him a brief look over her shoulder.

"The maid has a name. It’s Skye. And yes—I don’t want to sleep in any of your rooms."

Reid let out a soft, theatrical sigh.

"That’s such a shame. Your bird hasn’t seen you for a while and misses you. It’s been so gloomy in my room."

Amelia stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face him fully.

"Swifty is with you?"

Reid nodded, closing the remaining distance with easy confidence. He casually draped one arm across her shoulders, the gesture light but possessive.

"I’m not going to do anything funny to you," he said, tone softening to sound almost sincere. "But is it really so offensive for me to want to spend the night with my partner?"

Amelia rolled her eyes—but she also had to bite down on her lower lip to keep a smile from forming.

It was true. She hadn’t seen Swifty in a while.

She let out a short sigh. "If you do anything funny, I will kick you where the sun doesn’t shine. Hope you still remember how that feels."

A visible chill ran through Reid. He managed a smooth, "Sure," while carefully keeping the memory of that particular pain off his face. He had no desire to revisit it.

They reached their floor and stopped in front of his door. Reid opened it with exaggerated courtesy, holding it wide like a gentleman and gesturing her inside.

Reid’s room was way brighter than his brothers’ place. It actually had some color to it—warm tones, carefully picked-out pieces, and a lived-in setup that looked styled on purpose without feeling cluttered at all.

Then she spotted Swifty near a small dish, focused on eating.

She crossed the room at once and carefully picked the silver bird up.

"So this is where you’ve been," she murmured. "I missed you."

Swifty gave her a distinctly unimpressed look, feathers ruffling slightly—as if annoyed at the interruption of its meal, or possibly at being forgotten for so long.

Amelia understood immediately and softened her voice. "I’m sorry. Quite a few things have happened. I really am sorry."

The bird seemed to accept the apology after a moment. She set it back down gently so it could continue eating in peace.

Reid’s voice came from behind her.

"I brought some of your casual clothes. Your bag is over there. If there’s anything else you need, just say so."

Amelia glanced at the bag, then back at him.

"Thank you... for taking care of Swifty. That’s kind of shocking."

Reid raised an eyebrow.

"Why would that be shocking?"

"Don’t you mostly just care about your charming looks?" she said, half-teasing, half-serious. "Thinking about others doesn’t exactly seem like your kind of thing."

Something flickered right across Reid’s face—real hurt, covered up fast, but not quite fast enough.