The Duke's Unwanted Second Wife

August locked the door from the inside and snatched the pistol from Samir’s hand. Before Brian could even register the movement, August fired a bullet straight into his upper arm.

He moved with frightening speed, clapping a tight hand over Brian’s mouth to muffle the agonized scream.

Blinding pain surged through Brian’s body, tears spilling down his cheeks as he wriggled desperately, pleading for his life through the prince’s strong grip.

”No one is coming to save you,” August said coldly. ”Least of all the family using you as a puppet. It would be wise to give me a name.”

August slowly withdrew his hand from the man’s mouth, only to jam a thumb directly into the bleeding bullet wound.

”The... The Mercer family!” Brian gasped out, his body trembling from the agony.

August stepped back immediately, wiping the blood from his fingers. ”Take him to the hidden infirmary,” he ordered Samir. ”I shall meet you later.”

”Understood, Your Highness,” Samir replied, hauling the half-conscious manager to his feet as the prince turned on his heel and exited into the shadows.

Hailing a waiting carriage, August instructed the driver to race toward the Mercer estate. The moment the vehicle pulled to a halt and the guard swung the carriage door open, August leaped down onto the cobblestones.

Inside the Mercer estate, loud music echoed through the halls, signaling a lavish celebration in full swing.

August was halted at the grand entrance by the estate guards, but the moment he produced the royal token, their stoic expressions shattered into panic. Dropping to their knees in immediate apology, they hastily parted to grant him entry.

Stepping into the central hall, August was met with the spectacle of a grandiose performance. At the center of it all was the Head of the Mercer family, dancing in unbridled joy.

Renowned throughout the region for having four concubines, the patriarch was celebrating something so lavishly.

August raised his pistol and discharged a shot into the air.

The sound echoed off the high ceiling. The music died instantly, replaced by sharp screams of fear as panic swept through the family members.

The women gasped, scrambling to retreat toward the corridors, but August’s voice cut through the hall like a blade.

”No one shall move an inch,” he commanded. ”Attempt to flee, and my next shot will find your legs.”

The room froze instantly. Lord Mercer’s concubines stood petrified, while the musicians held their breath, terrified to make a sound.

”Before you begin wondering about my identity,” August continued, stepping into the center of the hall, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his sidearm, ”let me introduce myself. I am August Van Kingsley. By royal decree, I hold full authority to investigate unresolved matters threatening the kingdom. Why do you not spare us both the theater and surrender, Flynn Mercer?”

Flynn’s cheerful demeanor vanished, replaced by a look of strained innocence. ”Your Highness... I am at a complete loss. For what imaginable reason ought I surrender?”

”For peddling illegal narcotics through the hands of innocent children,” August stated flatly.

Flynn’s eyes narrowed.

Behind his public persona as a decadently wealthy patriarch, he maintained a covert network of assassins. The ruthless operatives trained to quietly dispose of any commoners or low-born informants who dared cross him.

His gaze flicked subtly toward a shadow near the marble pillars, passing a silent signal to one of his hidden men staged among the crowd.

”Your Highness speaks of serious accusations,” Flynn said smoothly, attempting to stall as his assassin shifted into position. ”Yet you arrive entirely unannounced... and quite alone. Where are the high inspectors? The city magistrates? The royal guard?”

”They are waiting outside,” August lied in a calm voice. ”Why? Are you contemplating my murder right here on your hall floor, planning to bury my corpse beneath your grounds just as you did with those nameless commoners who dared speak against you?”

Flynn’s eyes widened in sheer shock at the revelation. Just beside the marble pillar, the hidden assassin froze mid-step, his hand faltering on his concealed dagger.

”What is the matter, Mercer? Did I strike a nerve?” August mocked softly, his icy gaze tracking Flynn’s every twitch. ”By now, the King has already been formally briefed. Do you truly believe I would enter a viper’s nest without preparation? Surrender quietly and walk out with me. It will spare this house a rather unsightly bloodbath.”

Flynn’s throat went dry. A cold dread settled over him. He was completely cornered; he knew with certainty that if so much as a single scratch were inflicted upon the prince’s skin tonight, the wrath of the Crown would wipe the Mercer name from existence before dawn.

”I... I will accompany Your Highness. I beg of you, spare my family,” Flynn stammered, bowing his head in total submission as he stepped toward the prince.

August caught his wrists without a word, binding them securely with iron cuffs before dragging the fallen patriarch out through the grand entrance.

He shoved Flynn unceremoniously into the waiting carriage and called out to the driver, directing him toward the local inspector’s office.

Flynn peered through the small carriage window, scanning the dark, desolate grounds outside. Not a single royal guard or high magistrate was in sight.

”You lied, Prince August,” Flynn muttered, his voice trembling as the realization settled in. ”There is no one out there.”

Flynn kept his mouth shut, his jaw set in a tight, desperate line. He knew that the moment he admitted to a single crime, the carefully constructed empire of the Mercer name would collapse entirely, burying him beneath its weight.

August leaned back against the velvet seat of the carriage, watching the sweat pour down the patriarch’s pale face. A slow, dangerous grin spread across the prince’s features.

”Silence won’t protect you for long, Flynn,” August murmured, his tone light yet laced with steel. ”The dungeons beneath the inspector’s office have a remarkable way of making even the most stubborn men remarkably talkative.”