book 2 of 4
on the outside, looking in, bianca prescott was back to who everyone knew her as- kook princess, island royalty, who couldn't give less of a fuck about the pogues like they were poo on her jimmy choo's.
but bianca had a hit list. just...
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In a game of chess, every move matters. Michael Prescott knew this and he used it to his advantage, always fives moves ahead, anticipating his opponent's next turn. But when you're the King of the board, it's easy to overlook the expendable and powerless pawns at your feet. The foot soldiers, whose hearts burned brave and true, or the bold, daring knights and the Queen, who reigns as the most powerful and versatile character on the board, bound only by the King's vulnerability.
The Queen let a man play chess and told him every pawn was his friend. She let him think both bishops holy. She let him remember happy days in the shadows of his castles. She let him love her. And then, she watched him lose it all. She is dispensable, yes, but in the face of certain death, when all hope is lost, she is the one who calls checkmate.
By the time Kiara dropped Bianca to the Prescott estate in her father's truck, the rain had grown heavier, pounding against the windshield rather violently. The curly-haired girl drove off soon after, needing to pay a visit to her own parents and dreading the impending argument that awaited her at home.
Bianca rounded the back of her house, not wanting to draw attention to herself by going through the front door. She had texted her mother multiple times but never received a response in return. This only made the sickening feeling in her gut grow as she paced on the back porch anxiously.
Bianca tapped the screen of her phone again to check for new messages from her mother but let out an exasperated huff when another came up from the last person she wanted to hear from. It was Rafe—
'hey ik u don't rlly wanna talk rn but pls text me when u get this'
Bianca rolled her eyes, finger hovering over the 'block caller' button but before she could press it, the sudden slamming of a door within drew her attention away. She turned to peer through the window only to find the kitchen empty. A small curse fell from the girl's lips, glancing out into the storm thundering outside and back into the warmth of her home.
This was a chance she needed to take— she couldn't back down now. Not when all the Pogues were counting on her and were also confronting their own difficult situations. So, as stupid as it was, she pulled the back door open before taking a hesitant step inside.
Bianca's throat tightened, treading lightly against the white-tiled flooring, "Mom?" She whispered under her breath.
Almost immediately, she was greeted by the indistinct arguing of her parents in the other room and her eyebrows drew together, trying to make out what they were saying. It sounded heated, and Bianca knew her mother could hold her own, but it didn't stop her from worrying.
She didn't have to worry for long, however, because before she could even try to fathom an escape route, Lydia emerged into the kitchen. Upon seeing her daughter standing frozen, the furious expression on her face fell, "Bianca," She breathed out, eyes widening. "You shouldn't have come-"
