Brokedown Palace Book Novels & Stories

The palace above us groans faintly, the sound carrying down through the stone like a distant warning. Servants pass us occasionally as we move higher, their faces pale, their eyes hollow. No one speaks. No one makes eye contact. They move like ghosts, drifting through the corridors without purpose, without hope. The palace I remember is gone. This place.... This is something else. It is broken and dying. And at the center of it is....him. The bond pulls harder with every step, no longer a faint thread but a steady, insistent tug in my chest. This way.

his smile softened. “I simply never imagined fate would bring you back as Helena.” His eyes held so much tenderness as he looked at me. my heart trembled. He was going to break my walls if I wasn’t careful. I couldn’t fall for him; I knew what the palace was like. It was fancy on the outside but it swallowed people whole and spits only bones out. if it wished to. if not, not even a bone can be found.

I had only just come home, yet she already couldn't wait to jump into bed with him? I lifted my head to look beside me, which just so happened to be Rachel's room. I didn't know if it was my imagination, but I thought I could hear some faint giggling and moaning. Just the thought of what they were doing inside the room made my stomach churn. Nausea surged through me, and I retched loudly. All conversation in the stairwell abruptly stopped before two housekeepers appeared in my sight, their complexion deathly pale. "M-Mr. Yarrow, w-when did you get here?"

"The East Wing and West Wing protocols are officially compromised. We need a physical perimeter." The suite at the luxury hotel overlooking Central Park was, unfortunately, spectacular. It was a sprawling expanse of velvet, dark mahogany, and floor-to-ceiling glass. And right in the center of the massive master bedroom sat the enemy: a singular, cloud-like California King bed piled high with white down comforters and silk pillows.

My vision blurred, but I forced myself to look around again. “Rolex, where are you?!” Only broken glass answered me. My heart hammered, each beat more agonizing than the last. I clawed at the belt, pulling and screaming…but nothing worked. I reached for a shard of glass and started sawing at the strap desperately. “Please…please no… don’t do this to me…” The moment the belt snapped, I twisted toward the shattered window…and froze. Two men were dragging Rolex across the bridge. My breath died. His white shirt was soaked red, his suit torn, his body limp. He wasn’t fighting. He wasn’t even trying. “No,” I whispered. “No. No!”

Because in this world, loyalty was fragile, and power was everything. But if I didn’t act? Then I would be the one left to take the fall. Alone. I stopped walking abruptly, the tension coiling tightly inside my chest. Without hesitation, I tilted my head back and drained the rest of the wine in one go. The burn barely registered before I flung the glass across the compound in frustration. It shattered loudly against the stone. Even that worthless drink tasted better than the overpriced garbage stocked in my bar. I exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through my hair before pulling out my phone again. My eyes lingered on the screen for a moment before I dialed her number.

I wanted to reject that. To accuse him. To call him coward. But something in his eyes stopped me. He had already accused himself enough. So I turned and kept walking. That was all the forgiveness I could manage. As dawn threatened the horizon, the palace came into view. Even from a distance, it looked wounded. Smoke drifted from one side tower. Torches burned where they should have been extinguished. Guards moved along walls in frantic patterns. The great gate stood open. That alone told me how broken order had become.

Not physically. Emotionally. This room had witnessed so many versions of me. The frightened girl. The lonely girl. The angry girl. The girl who had spent years believing she was broken. Now all of that felt impossibly distant. Atlas leaned against the doorway. "You left almost nothing." I glanced around. A few books. Some charms hanging near the window. A blanket. Small pieces of a life that no longer fit. "I didn't need much." His expression softened. "No." I carefully removed the charms.

My living had been turn upside down, and my staffs stood there powerlessly, there faces buried toward the ground. Jax was sitting on the sofa facing the entrance, holding a book I had left on the table earlier before going out. I walked forward and the damages got clearer; vases broken across the floor, and one of my favorite portraits shattered to the ground, with its frame resting by the wall. “The Unwelcome One,” he read from the book’s cover, slowly. “By Martin Crowns.” He looked up, at me, and I walked closer to him. “What’s the deal with you? Why causing all this mess in my abode?” I said slowly and my voice shaking—like I’d poured all my seriousness into that statement.

She knew that was all Bambi was interested in. “Damn you! I told you to take me along!” he lashed at her, envy evident in his tone, and Jada couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah right, as if you can travel without a passport. Or maybe I can try to fit you into my luggage next time.” Bambi frowned, “I suddenly remembered that thief!” he exclaimed, rolling his eyes and scratching his forehead. He was referring to his most recent partner. They spent the night in his apartment and he got drunk. When he woke up, the guy was gone along with his bag.