Page 56 of Don't You Pucking Dare

"Got something planned?" Her voice carries an edge I can't place.

"You could say that."

Her finger traces my lips, deceptively gentle. "Is my mom in the trunk of your car?"

Ice floods my veins. "What?"

Those eyes—usually so warm—turn calculating. She stares at me and then touches her nose with mine. "Can I trust you, Brody?"

"As long as you listen to me." I keep my voice steady. "I'll keep you safe."

"But you're using me, aren’t you?"

My gut twists. She's drunk enough to speak the truth but not drunk enough to miss things. How much has she figured out? I study her face, trying to read what's behind those eyes. She’s spent these last few weeks putting this puzzle together, hasn’t she? I never took her for a naïve girl. This conversation needs to wait until after tonight. After I earn my place.

I brush hair from her face, buying time. "Everyone serves a purpose here." My gaze travels her body, appreciating the way those leather pants hug her curves. "But you're more than business to me. After tonight, everything will make sense. I’ll tell you everything." She looks hesitant, so I lean in, "Trust me, Duchess."

"Should I, Brody? Should I trust you?"

The question hangs between us. She has every right to doubt me. The plan was simple—use her, then discard her. But these weeks apart have shown me something else. Every time Ifucked my hand, it was her pretty face I saw. I’m not done with her yet.

Some pawns become queens without warning.

But two AM is coming. And the Reapers are waiting.

I watch Lola disappear around the corner, determined to find Amanda. Fuck. I need Noah. He's deep in conversation with some pledges, but this can't wait.

"What?" he snaps as I pull him into the study. Old money surrounds us—leather-bound books and hunting trophies no one's touched in decades.

"Lola's asking about her mother." The words taste like ash. "Something about her being in the trunk of a car."

"What?" Noah stills, putting the pieces together. His fingers rake through his hair. He's dealt with complications before, but this feels different.

I continue, "Maybe he knows about tonight. Maybe this whole thing's too easy for a man like him. Jackson warned me that I would be another target too. Some shit about my dad."

Noah's voice drops lower. "If she says anything else, let me know." He pulls out his phone. "I need to call my brother. Hold the plan."

I leave him to his call, unease crawling under my skin. I need to find Lola. The mansion feels like a maze tonight—crystal chandeliers casting shadows across marble floors, Persian rugs muffling footsteps, dark wood paneling hiding a century of secrets. Music pulses from downstairs while the upper floors stay tomb-quiet. Every room I check is empty: the library with its floor-to-ceiling shelves, the billiards room where deals get made, the smoking room where old Reapers gather.

I can’t fucking find her anywhere.

Through a second-floor window, moonlight catches the garden maze where I first claimed her. Of course. She's drawn to that place like a moth to flame.

Time to remind her why.

Chapter 25

The tequila hits hard as I stumble through the garden maze. Everything's spinning—the high hedges, the stone path, the night sky above. I call out for Amanda, but my voice echoes back strange and distorted. Bass from the party vibrates through my boots, making it harder to walk straight.

Moonlight spills over the hedges, casting weird shadows. The garden smells like rain and rich people's money—nothing like home. Nothing like the wild grass and dirt of the trailer park.

I almost walk right past her. Amanda sits on a stone bench, her face lit blue by her phone. Even wasted, she looks like she belongs here, all perfect posture and expensive grace.

"There you are." I sink down next to her, grateful for something solid.

"Why are you out here? You should go back inside." She doesn't look up. "Brody likes you. Anyone can see it."

I laugh, bitter and drunk. Doesn’t she know him better than I do? I mutter, "He's just using me. Don’t you see that?"

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