Chapter 220

Ella POV

When Alexander and I entered the lobby on our way to the parking garage, August was already waiting for us, his expression tight with concern.

“Diana just stormed out,” he informed us.

“Follow her,” Alexander instructed without hesitation. “Keep your distance, make sure she doesn’t see you—I want to know what she’s really getting up to in the capital.”

“Yes, sir.” August nodded sharply before turning on his heel and disappearing through the doors.

Alexander and I hurried to one of his favorite cars and slid inside.

The King’s house was a short drive away, and if we were quick, we’d arrive just as the press conference wrapped up. We needed answers. Why Amanda? What had changed?

As he drove, I reached for Alexander’s hand, intertwining my fingers with his. I could feel the tension in him, the anger still simmering from our encounter with Diana. Slowly, bit by bit, his grip relaxed. He needed to be clear-headed for this conversation.

When we arrived, the news crews were already dispersing, their vans pulling away from the King’s estate. The guards hesitated, but after a beat, they stepped aside and allowed us through.

Inside, the King’s face lit up with a broad smile.

“I was hoping you’d see the news,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you both.”

“We’ve only ever been a phone call away,” Alexander said, his concern unwavering.

“Come, come.” The King waved us forward, leading us down a long hallway and into a private sitting room.

The moment we stepped inside, I froze.

From somewhere in the distance, muffled but unmistakable, came the sound of screaming.

Amanda.

“What’s going on?” I asked, glancing toward the door.

“She’s been… upset,” the King said, as if that were an understatement. “She’s been like this since she was taken into custody. I’m surprised she hasn’t lost her voice yet.”

“Why the arrest?” Alexander asked, his tone sharp. “Just days ago, you released Archer due to a lack of evidence. What changed with Amanda?”

“David,” the King said simply. “He told us Amanda was fully aware of his actions and even helped arrange at least one kidnapping attempt against Ella and her mother. Dr. McIntyre backed up his claims, and with that, we had enough for an arrest.”

“But not Archer,” I murmured.

The King shook his head. “Archer Gray covered his tracks well. So far, neither David nor Amanda have implicated him.”

Alexander crossed his arms. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“My best guess?” the King said. “They’re afraid of him. Amanda keeps ranting about how she has powerful connections, how we’re making a mistake messing with her, but when pressed, she’s short on details.”

“And Dr. McIntyre?” I asked. “Has she said anything else?”

The King’s expression hardened. “No. She’s refusing to share more. Says the people at the top of this scheme are too dangerous and she’s already risked enough.”

Alexander exhaled through his nose, deep in thought. I could see the wheels turning in his mind—debating whether or not he should share what we knew with the King.

I made my decision.

“Would it be possible for me to talk to Amanda?” I asked.

Both men turned to look at me.

Alexander looked surprised. The King, however, did not.

“I hoped you’d ask,” he said. “We’ve gotten nothing out of her but vague threats. Maybe hearing from someone she knows will shake her.”

Alexander stiffened. “Ella, this is a dangerous idea.”

“I can handle Amanda,” I said firmly, meeting his gaze. “I think I’ve proven that. Besides, she’s in custody, right? Handcuffed?”

“She is,” the King confirmed.

“Then she can’t touch me.” I crossed my arms. “Let me try. No one else has been able to get anything out of her.”

Alexander was silent for a moment. From the upper floor, Amanda’s shrieking continued, raw and ragged.

Finally, he reached for my hand, gripping it tightly.

“If things get too intense, you walk out of there,” he said in a low voice. “Promise me.”

I smiled, squeezing his fingers. “I promise. I need you to trust that I know what I’m doing.”

His eyes softened, just slightly. “I trust you with my life.” Then, he lifted my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles.

“Let’s not waste any more time,” the King said abruptly.

Alexander masked his irritation well, but I could tell he was growing weary of the King’s manic energy. Still, he didn’t protest. Instead, he placed a steadying hand on my lower back as we followed the King to the door.

The King poked his head out, calling to the guards. “Escort Luna Black to the prisoner’s cell and give them privacy.”

Alexander leaned close to my ear. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “I have a plan.”

A ghost of a smirk crossed his lips. “Of course you do.” He kissed my cheek. “Don’t let her get under your skin.”

“She won’t,” I assured him.

One of the guards stepped forward, hesitation flickering across his face. “Follow me, Miss.”

“Luna,” Alexander corrected, his voice sharp.

The guard flushed, nodding quickly. “Apologies. Luna, I’ll take you down.”

The staircase leading to the basement was carpeted, muffling my footsteps. Though the air grew colder, there were no eerie creaks or ominous sounds—just sterile silence. The guard in front of me remained quiet until we reached the door.

Amanda’s screams were muffled but unmistakable, laced with fury and desperation. The moment the door swung open, a flustered young guard nearly ran out.

“Finally,” he breathed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’ve been hoping someone would relieve me—” His words trailed off as his eyes landed on me, widening.

“Stay by the door,” the senior guard instructed. “The Luna will speak with the prisoner alone.”

The younger guard hesitated, then gave me a small, respectful bow. “Please don’t hesitate to call if you need us.”

“I appreciate that,” I said smoothly. “But I won’t need help.”

The door clicked shut behind me.

Amanda sat on a narrow bed, one wrist shackled to the wall behind her. Her once-polished appearance had crumbled—her hair was a mess, her eyes wild, and her expression a mixture of rage and disbelief. The moment she saw me, she bared her teeth in a furious snarl.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she spat.

I stepped closer but stayed just out of reach, pulling a chair away from the desk before sitting down. I studied her, taking in what she had become.

At one time, Amanda had been my best friend. I had imagined we’d be inseparable for life. But now, she was caged, frantic, half-crazed—all because she had tried to kill me to steal my mate.

It was absurd. And to my surprise, I felt something unexpected.

Sadness.

“I’m here to talk,” I said softly. “I wish it hadn’t come to this, Amanda. I really do.”

“And I wish you were dead!” she snapped. “But apparently, every assassin in the Roguelands is an incompetent fool.”

“You shouldn’t speak so openly about that,” I mused. “You’ll ruin any chance at a defense.”

She let out a humorless laugh. “My life is already over. You saw to that. You ruined things between David and me because you were jealous. You couldn’t handle that we were in love.”

I smiled despite myself and shook my head. “You know what? In honor of our friendship, I’m going to be completely honest with you.”

Amanda narrowed her eyes. “Honest about what?”

“How I knew the truth about you.” I tilted my head, watching her closely. “And everything I did to make sure you and David ended up exactly where you are now.”

Her pupils dilated, her breath hitching. The crazed look in her eyes sharpened into something more dangerous.

“I knew it.” She bared her teeth. “I knew you did this to me.”

I leaned forward, my voice turning ice-cold. “I did.”

Amanda let out a wordless scream, a guttural, feral sound of rage.

But I wasn’t finished.

“And do you want to know why?”

She snarled, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Because you killed me.”

Confusion flickered over her face. Then, suspicion.

I folded my hands in my lap. “Are you going to stop screaming?” I asked. “So I can tell you the whole story?”

Amanda hesitated. Her gaze flickered to the door before returning to me. Then, slowly, she nodded.

I took a steadying breath. My hands trembled slightly, but I tightened them into fists.

This was it. The final move.

The nail in the coffin.

And so, I began to speak.