“QUE DIOS VENDIGA EL REY,” a few men muttered after an incalculable moment of silence.

André couldn’t breathe. God Bless our King.

“Your father was assassinated. Along with your brother, sir.” Stefano never moved his gaze from André. The prince struggled to his feet. His numbed legs wouldn’t let him balance. Stefano reached out and held his shoulder, more of a comfort than assistance. A sign of affection he had never shown in front of others.

“Dios mio,” André breathed, the air sucked out of his lungs. “When?”

“An hour ago. Bendetto and his men stormed the palace and have taken over the Royal Square.”

“Bendetto?” André choked. “From the Lozano cartel?”

“Their top general, for lack of a better word,” Stefano growled. “Monster is more accurate.”

André’s phone now felt like a bowling ball in his pocket. His heart sank along with it. Alanna called me for help and I didn’t answer. “Alanna? Where is my sister?”

“She is missing, Your Grace.”

“But…she just called me.”

“When?”

“Not an hour ago, she called my phone but I didn’t answer.”

Stefano’s face hardened again and he held out his hand. “May I, sir?”

André handed over the phone, but after his bodyguard called several times there was no answer. André’s throat constricted. “What of Tulio’s wife, and little Alejandro?”

The lines on Stefano’s forehead deepened and he lowered his eyes.

“No…” André nearly choked. His nephew meant more to him than a crown. Other than shaming his mother’s name and the legacy of two hundred years of Peraltas, leaving Alejandro behind hurt most of all. For the love of God, please no.

“I’m so sorry, Your Highness,” Stefano managed after he cleared his throat. “They were killed when Bendetto took the palace. He shot them to get your father to reveal where you were hidden. He refused.”

André turned to the window as Stefano relayed the events. Royalty wasn’t supposed to show vulnerability, especially the prince, but André didn’t care. The tears flowed as he sobbed into his hands, and collapsed. He knelt in front of the window, bracing his arm on the glass.

He’d lost his family all over again. Only this time there was no one to trust the crown to: not his brother, sister, or nephew. The legacy was over.

“Prince André,” Stefano moved behind him. “Since your sister is missing, you are now the king.”

Stefano’s words swallowed all air in the room. King André. The weight of a royal crown never felt so suffocating and oppressive.

A king, already on his knees.

“No,” André breathed.

“Your Majesty—” Stefano tried to continue, using the title reserved for his father.

“No!” André glared at him. “The crown is for Alanna. Find her.”

“Sire, we have to assume—”

“I will not give up hope.” André pushed himself to his feet. “She has to be alive. Besides, an exiled prince cannot inherit the throne.”

Stefano paused, seeming to swallow back his words before he continued. “We have to get you out of Nevada. Tonight.”

“Why?”

“He’s put an order on your head, Your Highness. His men are on their way to kill you, probably as we speak.”

The bodyguards began to pack their equipment and clear the room. All in silence. When only the prince and Stefano remained, André still couldn’t speak.

“We must put you in hiding, sir. Somewhere no Royal Guard secret file has listed as an approved location.”

“What does he want, Stefano? Why would he do this?”

Stefano strangled a sigh. “The Lozanos in Manila want Solana’s strategic position at the edge of the Pacific for drug distribution to the Americas. It’s the only island with an airport large enough to suit the cartel, but small enough to be overtaken easily without foreign assistance. And Bendetto’s always had a grudge against your father.”

Drugs. His family and legacy were dead, because of money and drugs. The agreement his father had made with the United States for military assistance had done nothing. Now he had to hide. Like a coward.

“For how long, Stefano?” André murmured. “A week? A month? Would you have me hide for a year while my father’s people are brutalized by that lunatic?”

Stefano pulled a chair beside André and they both sat, letting the casual gesture speak for the equality he only shared in private.

“Your father died defending his people and his family. Including you. Now that Bendetto is suppressing the army, we must wait for the UN to intervene.”

“The UN?” André barked. “They’ll take months to move, if at all!”

“Sir, we have no power, no resources to confront Bendetto directly. The United States must seek approval from Congress to intervene, which will take time. CNN has already had your and Alanna’s photos plastered on TV this hour. With their help, the US and UN will be urged to act. Let them handle Bendetto in the International Criminal Courts. Then when it’s safe, you can return.”

“Solana would never forgive me for hiding in their hour of need. I could not forgive myself.”

“Let us secure your safety first, Sire, before we decide our next steps. How can you reclaim the throne if you are dead?”

“Don’t call me that. We must find my sister.” André stood and dried his eyes with a rough knuckle. “The Peraltas have ruled Solana for over two hundred years, helped the people thrive despite the Spanish American war and two World Wars. I’ll be damned if we’re wiped out by some ridiculous, Filipino drug lord. Find out where the generals are. Where is Parliament? The army? We have to get them back, otherwise the people are helpless.”

“We will find the princess, sir. As for you, we must go off grid. Someplace small where we can see strangers coming from far off. You cannot live the extravagant lifestyle to which you are accustomed. Nothing that would draw attention. And we must change your appearance, Your Highness.”

André groaned. It had taken a year to grow his goatee the way he wanted. “Must I?”

“Your picture has been all over the news. You would be recognized as you are.”

“Where on Earth could I go and not be recognized?”

“I know of a place. But…”

“But what?”

“Royals do not fit in.”

André gave a wry laugh. “What better place to disappear?”