Chapter 27

Paris, France

The coppery stench of blood mixed with the acrid tinge of urine filled the old, abandoned building. Off in a corner, the drip, drip, drip of water coming from a crack in the ceiling had started to grate on Viktor’s nerves. Since they were working without electricity, his men had brought in battery-operated lights that glared unyielding white into the bloodied face of a man who would die when Viktor was through with him. There had been enough information in all the files they’d acquired to realize just how calculated, hideous, and devious Jean Luc’s crimes had been.

And Viktor had only scratched the surface of the data he’d acquired.

Jean Luc sat bound to a metal chair, air seizing from his cut lips. The right side of the Frenchman’s face was swollen, and they’d been at it long enough that blood caked the cuts. “Why would I tell you anything? You plan to kill me no matter what.”

“I never said anything about death,” Viktor said almost conversationally. He wanted the man to suffer, but he also wanted answers that didn’t seem to be in the files. Viktor wasn’t sure how long it would take to get them, but he could be patient if he had to be.

Pavel had made it appear as if the man had rushed off on a last-minute trip. “We can sit here and talk for as long as we need. Your office will not miss you for days.”

Jean Luc attempted to narrow his swollen eyes. The man had a high tolerance for pain. If Viktor hadn’t found records of his blackmail and images of his playroom, he might have contained his rage a little longer. The man had enjoyed doling out pain, and Viktor reveled in returning it.

The Frenchman had indeed been a collector, but the things Viktor had seen brought back the days of his own uncle’s reign. His uncle had bought and sold people, devoid of compassion. His father had profited well enough and was nearly as horrible. They’d ruled by fear, tormenting their own men for small slights. Jean Luc was far worse in that he’d so easily hidden his sinister side.

Viktor’s hands were shaking with fury over the images they’d found in the collected files. The man hadn’t been able to get rid of his trophies.

The photos had shown broken women with vacant eyes, beaten and abused for years, only to have died, the evidence cleaned and swept away, merely for it to happen all over again with another. The time stamps spanned decades. The women had been held in something that resembled a display case. Viktor’s men were trying to find out where Jean Luc had kept them. Viktor needed to be sure there were no more women chained and trapped in a cramped space and being fed as if they were no more than dogs.

The bastard’s laugh was more of a cackle. “Those pictures are not mine. I’ve never seen such a disturbing place.” The bastard was taunting him.

There’d been no missing the excitement in Jean Luc’s eyes when Viktor had shown him the images. That was the reason the man could barely see now. All Viktor thought of was what the man had planned for his princess. Jean Luc had set her up at every turn. He’d known he’d make it onto her list of marks and he’d waited. He’d spent months gathering intel on her people, the men he believed helped her take down corrupt figures in society. The notes had been there.

Jean Luc had been fixated on the princess for years, but in the last months things had changed. He’d found a way to truly get to her. To access the secret life he’d been convinced she was living. His actions over that time had been calculated to acquire information as blackmail. He’d wanted to own her.

Viktor seethed with the need to slam a fist in the bastard’s face, but he couldn’t trust himself not to finish it. He forced a breath.

It was time to change direction. “Where did you get all the recordings from La Couronne?”

The Frenchman grinned, his teeth bloody. This information seemed to amuse the man far too much. “When the old dean died, his temporary replacement found the book and the surveillance. I have to give it to old Chadwick; he’d given himself a nice insurance plan, though I feel it was such a sad waste. The secrets of children, speaking of their wealthy families so freely. The man had gold and merely kept it locked up. When lovely Patricia found it, she came to me to do exactly what the man should have done. Extort me.” The Frenchman tsked.

Jean Luc had refused to talk about Sophia or the women he’d abused. He would not give Viktor what he wanted, but he gave this freely.

The piece of shit couldn’t see the look Viktor sent Ivan’s way with all the light shining in his face. His men would look into this Patricia.

Pavel was sifting through all the files that did not pertain to Sophia. Viktor would be the only one to see Sophia’s records. Ivan had seen enough on the plane. It was a given that he wouldn’t speak of it. Ivan was closer to Viktor than the others. He’d been there to help Viktor take down his uncle all those years ago. They had history, and the man’s loyalty was something Viktor never questioned.

He glared at the man seated in front of him. In less than twenty-four hours, Sophia would come to him again. That gave him and his men a deadline. He would have all the man’s secrets before that time was up.

*****

A sharp knock sounded at Sophia’s door, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She’d been caged for hours, but at least she had Antony’s phone—the phone her old guard still hadn’t realized was missing. That lifeline to her friends had meant more to her than she would ever admit. If she didn’t have it, she wasn’t sure how she would be doing as a prisoner.

She opened the door, her head high as she smiled at the loveliest sight she’d ever seen—a team of who she assumed were all attorneys led by Edward Franklin of Franklin, Standen & Wiezen. His silver hair was perfectly combed, and she could kiss his rosy cheeks. He was one of the most prominent attorneys for the wealthy, and she’d known he would get her out. The alternative wasn’t something she wanted to consider. She’d never been so grateful her grandmother had been so close to the man before she’d died.

“Ms. Loredan.”

“Thank you for coming. Am I free to go?”

The men with her attorney were tight-lipped and looked harried to say the least. But not Edward. He looked completely unruffled as he spoke. “Your brother is now clear on your position and is fully aware of your current status as a new citizen of the United Kingdom.”

Her eyes widened a fraction. She’d only just seen the man that morning. Her abdication paperwork had been secretly started years ago, but the citizenship aspect had to have been a miracle he’d pulled at the last minute. That particular set of documents had only been drawn up that morning. It couldn’t have gone through all the channels unless Edward had pulled a number of strings. At that moment, she didn’t care how he’d done it, just that she was finally free. She would hug him the second she got out of the palace.

When Sophia exited the palace doors for the last time, she savored the first breath of true freedom. There were several dark sedans waiting in the drive. She’d asked Forde not to come in with Edward, and she breathed in a sigh of relief that he’d actually followed her wishes. She hadn’t been exactly certain what Edward would do but had been confident he wouldn’t allow her to stay locked up in Porenza. The man had loved her grandmother and had extended that caring to Sophia, even after her grandmother had died. Fighting back the emotion clogging her throat, she lifted her chin as she left her old life behind.

The fairytales had gotten it all wrong. It hadn’t taken a prince to slay her dragons; it had taken the wisdom and daring of a handful of wise old men charging to her rescue.