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DK’s eyes move past him and settle on Arianette, who is standing beside Hunter with a tattoo book open in her hands. She’s flipping through the pages while Hunter leans over her shoulder, occasionally pointing something out, and there’s something about the easy familiarity between them that still catches me off guard. Not because I question it anymore, but because there was a time when I couldn’t have imagined any of this being possible.

“What do you think?” DK asks her.

“I think it sounds like a great idea.” Arianette closes the book and walks toward us, a smile forming as she looks at Remy. “It’s an amazing opportunity.”

Remy’s jaw tightens for the briefest moment before he forces the expression away.

He’s doing better with Arianette, and I’ll give him credit for that, but even I can acknowledge that having a stepmother who is two years younger than you has to be a difficult pill to swallow. There are some family dynamics you can’t fix with trauma bonding, and apparently this is one of them.

“What are the terms?” Hunter asks, bringing us back to business. “Is it a flat fee per customer or a percentage?”

“Percentage,” Remy says. “Fifty-fifty.”

DK glances at Hunter, and Hunter rocks back on his heels as they share one of those silent conversations they’ve become remarkably good at having. Neither of them says anything for several seconds, but I can practically see the negotiation happening between them.

“Seventy-thirty,” DK counters.

Remy’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s bullshit. This is my shop. My overhead. My clientele.”

Hunter looks at DK again, and DK looks back at him before turning his attention to Remy. “Sixty-forty,” he says, “but I get a kickback on any referrals.”

Remy considers it for approximately half a second before thrusting out his hand. “Deal.”

They shake on it, and I watch the two of them with a strange mixture of amusement and disbelief while I try to imagine what this is actually going to look like once they get everything up and running.

A Baron working in West End with a Duke.

A month ago, that sentence would have sounded impossible. Now, somehow, it feels like one more change I’m going to have to get used to.

“One rule,” Remy says.

I almost laugh at how quickly he manages to add a condition after agreeing to everything else.

DK leans against the counter. “What’s the rule?”

“No piercing Lavinia.” Remy’s eyes narrow as he points the marker at him. “Anywhere.”

DK doesn’t even hesitate. “Sure. Whatever.”

I glance toward Arianette, and unless I’m imagining it, there’s a tiny flicker of relief across her face at the answer.

The door that leads to the back of the parlor swings open. I recognize the man that walks out: Eugene Warren. The kid looks like he’s aged five years since I saw him last, but he’s had a rough go after all those months of being accused of kidnapping and murder. When he sees us, he threads his arm into the sleeve of his hoodie. The movement draws my eyes to his upper arm, where a tattoo has been blacked out.

“Keep that clean,” Remy tells him. “And come back next week and I’ll make sure it doesn’t need any more work.”

He lifts his chin. “Thanks, Rem,” he says, before striding out the front door, ignoring Slade and Jace who are keeping watch outside.

“Is he okay?” Ari asks.

Remy shrugs. “I’m not sure. He’s trying to figure out where to go from here, but he’s a tough kid. He’ll be alright.”

It’s clear that’s all he plans on saying, and he turns his attention toward me instead. “What about you, Old Man? You about ready?”

“Ready for what?”

Things between Remy and me have smoothed out considerably, but that doesn’t mean he’s lost his ability to get under my skin. If anything, now that we’re no longer actively at war with each other, he seems to have decided irritating me is a form of bonding.

He smirks. “Every Baron has a mark. Usually the pentagram, like Hunter, or Memento Mori. Seems like if this three-way leadership idea of yours is going to work, you need to get some ink.”