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“You picked the wrong side, Sister. Your men weren’t as strong as they thought they were. They’re dead. Captured. Weak.” I inhale. “And yes, we’re still looking for whoever this Guardian is and where they’re keeping Stella. This is your chance to not go down like your men. It’s your opportunity to talk and tell us what you know, and you can go down in BRN history as a victor instead of a traitorous piece of trash.”

She pulls at my wrists, and I loosen just enough to let her speak.

“I can’t. They’ll kill me–worse than anything you can do. There is no mercy. Not from the Guardian.”

I tilt my head, studying this woman I aspired to be like. “Do you remember what you said to me the night of the Hunt?” I ask, pushing my knuckle into her throat.

Our eyes lock, and she nods, whispering, “Pain is the gatekeeper to destiny.”

For a long, suffocating moment, the only sound is her ragged breathing and the distant drip of water in the sink.

Then something in her breaks.

Regina’s shoulders slump. The fight drains from her body as fresh tears spill down her cheeks. Her voice cracks when she finally speaks again.

“Fine, I’ll talk,” she whispers, defeated. “But only to you. Baroness to Baroness.”

“Not a chance–” Hunter starts, as Damon adds, “Fuck no.”

Glancing back at them, I catch their eyes, letting them know that I need to do this. Regina and I need to talk. I can tell neither of them likes it, but Damon gives a tight nod. Turning back, I tighten my grip on the chain and lean in closer, my voice low and cold. “Baroness to Baroness,” I agree, “but don’t you dare leave anything out.”

Damon leans down and kisses me, deep and possessive, like he’s pouring every ounce of warning and protection into it. When he pulls back, I feel him tuck a gun into the waistband of my pants, and he says, “Right outside, Doll Baby.”

The weight of the steel is heavy and cool against my skin–a stark, comforting reminder of how serious this is.

Baroness to Baroness.

Two women bound by tradition and the fact that we’ve both handed our lives over to men chosen by the King.

The heavy door clicks shut behind Damon and Hunter, leaving Regina and me alone in the sleek underground apartment. The air between us feels charged, prickling with electricity. I don’t hesitate to strike first.

“I should kill you,” I say, my voice low and steady. “End this now, because there’s nothing you can say that I’ll believe. You’re a liar. Just like the other traitors we’ve already sent to the other side.”

Regina straightens, rubbing at her throat where the chain had dug in. Her eyes meet mine with a tired kind of defiance.

“My death was written in stone the day I became Baroness,” she replies. “Go ahead. Death isn’t a fear, it’s an honor.”

My gaze drops to the beetle pendant still resting against her collarbone. The same type of beetle that we found spilling out of Kelsey’s mouth. I look away, reminding myself that my curiosity burns hotter than my bloodlust.

“Why did you do it?” I ask.

“Why do you think?” she bites back.

“Don’t blame your betrayals on false loyalty. The bond to my Barons is strong, but my loyalty to BRN and the King is stronger. I don’t think it’s because of the Black Wedding. He owned me from the first moment I saw him, long before we were wed. You owed him more than what he got.”

“I felt the same,” she admits quietly. “Until he betrayed William.”

William–the Baron Timothy gave to Whitaker for penance.

“He’s the one with mixed loyalties,” she asserts. “A weakness that drove a wedge between us. He was too focused on you, on outsiders, on contracts and obligations, to see what was happening under his own roof.”

“You gave him your oath,” I remind her. “That should transcend anything else.”

“You don’t understand what it’s like,” she says, voice cracking slightly. “One minute you’re the Baroness, a royal House Girl. Next, you’re released into the world without protections or the King’s favor. No one gives a shit about someone like me once the title is removed. I had no one but them and no choice but to follow, even if I knew it was a path straight to hell.”

I fight rolling my eyes. Regina doesn’t seem like the kind of girl who follows obediently. There’s too much fire under her skin. Too much defiance. But I need her comfortable and talking, so I encourage, “Tell me what happened. Tell me your story.”

Regina looks skeptical–rightfully so. No one ever asks us about our feelings, our past, or our history. Not unless it can be leveraged. I’m no different. I’m looking for answers, for clues. But sitting here, I also see pieces of myself in this woman. We are both tied to powerful men. If they go down, we go down with them.