Kill the King (A Knight's Revenge Book 3) by Elizabeth Dear

Author:Elizabeth Dear [Dear, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Elizabeth Dear Publishing LLC
Published: 2023-02-09T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

NOAH

I scowled at Kara from the cushy hospital bed I’d been confined to since last night. She was unmoved by my ire, her arms crossed over her chest as she stood at the foot of my bed, daring me to try to sneak out of here before I was discharged.

“They said twenty-four hours, Noah,” she reminded me. “Twenty-four hours of observation, then you can go home. And Jojo would send me straight to Frankie’s workroom if I let you walk out of here before you’re ready.”

I sighed dramatically, falling back onto my pillow. “Fine,” I said. While Jojo would do no such thing to Kara, she would have my balls if she thought I was doing anything to compromise my healing. “I’ll behave.”

“Thank you,” she replied with a grin. “And settle in. I have Frankie’s report for you.”

That pepped me up a bit. Anderson would not be enjoying his stay in Knight Tower, and I suspected Frankie—who was developing a soft spot for his lovely boss, Jolie Knight—made sure Anderson paid for what he’d put Jojo through in his desperate attempt to earn back a shred of credibility from Andrea Ferrero.

As I’d suspected, my gunshot wound, while it’d hurt like a bitch, hadn’t been life threatening, so the doctors working in the emergency clinic in the new and improved Hargraves Tower had been able to patch me up without too much fuss. Jolie, Bennett, and Zach had camped out in my room until I sent them all home to sleep comfortably in an actual bed, and I made them all swear to go to class this morning too.

“So, was Frankie able to confirm this was Andrea’s doing?” I asked Kara.

She nodded. “Yes. The sense we’re getting is that while Andrea and James Spencer are technically still aligned and claiming to be united as the sole representatives for the Four Families, they’re butting heads, and this was Andrea’s attempt to claim she succeeded eliminating Jolie where Spencer failed.”

The pain that lanced my chest at her words was so familiar. I’d already been forced to watch my small, fragile best friend die right in front of me once, and the thought of losing Jolie again—for good—was a nightmare I couldn’t fathom.

My mood darkened. “Who the fuck tipped them off to the paintball match?”

“Our guest did not actually have that information,” she replied. “And Frankie assures us that he was very thorough in checking the veracity of that claim.”

And Frankie was nothing if not thorough.

I crossed my legs and shifted to sit up higher against my pillows, thankful I’d been allowed to change into my worn Holywell Crew long-sleeved T-shirt and track shorts instead of continuing to look ridiculous in a hospital gown. I pulled my phone from the table next to the bed and went straight to my secure chat with Silver to see if she had any news.

“Really, it wasn’t a secret that Jolie was going to participate in that ridiculous dick-measuring contest between men’s crew and men’s lacrosse,” I said as I hammered out a text to Silver.

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