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Killian finally breaks the silence. “Someone has to be in a position of leadership in each house.”
“But there are provisions for situations like this,” Sy adds. “For a temporary stand-in–”
Killian interrupts. “Unless one of you plans on taking over for good.”
For many, the temptation would be there, but we’re too fucking shellshocked to even consider it. We’re still loyal to Maddox, that’s something these men don’t understand, not when they picked off their leadership, one by one.
“We’re taking this day by day right now,” I explain. “And we’re willing to make arrangements while Maddox is out of commission.”
Sy’s eyes flick between us. “We can assume it will be one of you.”
Verity watches us closely, quiet, but definitely interested.
The decision was made on the dashboard of the truck on the way here. I took the King’s ring that Ari gave me out of my pocket and spun it like a top. A simple game of chance—fifty-fifty, one in two. When it stopped spinning, whoever the pentagram was facing was it. No second chances. No retries. That’s it.
The most powerful people in Forsyth stare back at us now, waiting for an answer. An answer that will change the trajectory of all of our lives.
“Me,” DK says, chin lifted, voice steady. “I’m going to be the King of the Barons.”
I peel away from the curb, tires squealing against the cracked asphalt as I put distance between us and that fucking courthouse as fast as possible. Everything from the peeling walls, to the weight of two kings and a queen stuffed in one room–each with endless questions and accusations–has my already fried nerves extra crispy. I’m ready to get the hell out of there.
“Christ,” I mutter, gripping the wheel tighter. “Promise me we never have to go in there again.”
“Dude, I can’t even promise what’s going to happen in the next five minutes,” DK says beside me, running a hand down his thigh like he’s trying to wipe away the tension. “Those people are intense.”
It had taken hours to sort through everything after DK announced he was stepping in as King. Killian had still been pissed about being kept in the dark about Maddox, his anger rolling off him in waves. Everyone wanted assurances that we were prepared to clean house inside the Barons–to root out every last traitor. And then Verity had asked the question we were all dreading.
“And Stella?”
“We keep looking,” DK had answered without hesitation. “We’ll use every resource we have to find her.”
We both know what that really means. It means digging deeper into Arianette’s head. Pushing her to remember things she’d rather forget.
I glance over at him as we merge onto the main road. “Are you okay with this?” I ask. He knows exactly what I’m talking about.
DK flexes his hand, making the heavy Baron King ring glint in the late afternoon light. “It’s just fucking weird.”
He leans back in the seat, staring out the window, before he keeps talking. “This isn’t where my life was headed. Last time I got locked up, it was for some stupid shit–boosting a couple of cars. Nothing big, just joyriding and stripping parts to make rent. But that petty shit starts to add up. Then you get into fights in jail because some asshole thinks you looked at him wrong, and suddenly you’ve got more charges stacked on top. Rikki couldn’t afford a real attorney anyway. Public defender barely showed up.” He shakes his head, jaw tight. “I figured I’d just rot in there, but Maddox saw something in me. He made this happen.”
I nod, thinking about how I was living a double life. Days in class, nights at the radio station, and Noir Sanctum. “He changed both of our lives. We were both doing our own thing–fully independent, no interest in the Greek system, no legacy to fall back on. Then he pulled us into the Barons, and now look at us.”
“It’d be nice if there was an instruction manual,” he mutters.
“We’ll figure it out,” I tell him, trying to sound more confident than I feel. “We have Graves, who seems to know as much as Timothy, and hopefully it’s temporary.”
DK runs a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. “How do you think Ari is going to handle it?”
Fuck. That’s the question that’s been gnawing at me since we left the tribunal.
She’s so fucking fragile right now. Still raw from everything that’s happened. She’s worried about Timothy, worried about her own safety, worried about us. She’d barely gotten her footing under her, and now she has to be this strong? Jesus, we all do.
I don’t answer right away. The truck hums beneath us as I push it a little faster down the road, heading back toward the hospital, back to our girl.
“I don’t know,” I finally admit. “She just needs to know that we’re on her side.”
I’ve already killed one man to protect her. I don’t have a problem doing it again, but Arianette doesn’t just need killers on her side. She needs men who can handle her. Men who want her regardless of the world falling apart around us. Men who are honest and truthful and fuck.
“I need to tell you something,” I say, keeping both hands on the wheel as the road unspools ahead of us. “And I feel like a dick for not bringing it up before, but things have been… well, you know.”
