Saving Everest | The Royals

Chapter 24 - Plan B = Kiss

Everest's POV

"Ow, ow, ow, fuck."

"Would you stop being a wuss and shut up?"

"Not when it hurts like a bi- ow!"

"Pussy," Aspen whispered, dabbing gently at the wound on his back.

Blood stained the white shirt draped on the bathroom door. I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror, cringing at the pained expression  on my face.

Maybe I am a pussy,

I glanced behind me in the mirror, taking the opportunity to watch Aspen as she cleaned the cut made from the glass.

Her raven black hair was tied in a messy bun, soft tendrils that escaped framing her face.  Her brows furrowed in concentration.

Her hands were gentle as they brushed over my skin.

My mind reeled as I recalled what happened in that office building.

There was glass everywhere.

My back was stinging.

I felt like I was underwater. Aspen was talking to me, I could see her lips moving. But I couldn't hear a thing.

All I could focus on was the look on her face.

She was worried. Worried about me.

And every time I thought about it, my heart skipped a beat.

I noticed lately that Aspen was always the last thing I thought of when I went to bed and the first thing when I woke up.

When I was alone in my study, I was distracted knowing she was feet away from me in her own room.

Maybe it wasn't just me.

Maybe, just maybe, it was the same for her.

"You okay?" she asked suddenly, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Yeah," I nodded quickly.

"You zoned out a bit there."

She reached forward for the bottle of rubbing alcohol when I noticed her hands.

Bright red lines covered the back of her hands, a slight tremble in her grip as she opened the bottle.

Then I realized that her expression wasn't one of concentration.

It was pain.

Reaching out, I grabbed her hand gently.

"It's fine," she muttered, pulling away from me.

"You're bleeding."

"No shit sherlock."

I rolled my eyes as she turned me around again, placing the soft bandage on the cut.

"The investigator hired by the Prime Ministers family came to a conclusion last night," I began, catching Aspen's attention.

"And?"

"He didn't die from the gunshot wound apparently."

"Yeah right, what else would've caused-"

"Carbon Monoxide."

"You mean he died of Carbon Monoxide poisoning? So the gunshot wound was post-mortem?"

"No, not post-mortem. He was poisoned first, then shot in the leg."

"That doesn't add up. There's no way he died of any other reason except blood loss caused by the shot," Aspen shook her head.

"There's some details that are still unexplained. But he's confident it was carbon monoxide. The Prime Minister must have left his car running in the garage with poor ventilation."