Page 45 of Duchess

I frowned.

Ten years.

I’d spent the last fucking decade ripping the country apart to find her. Scouring every lead, every corner of this goddamn world. I’d put men on every coast, in every club, and I even triedto plant one inside the Royal Bastards, following her brother and father. The idiot we had finally put on the job had gotten himself killed in a crossfire with the Bloody Scorpions, and now I had no eyes in ears on the inside. But he did let me know she was protected.

The Royal Bastards weren’t just any club. They had armor, and no one got in without permission, and you sure as shit didn’t get out without shedding blood. If they knew where she was, they weren’t saying a damn thing. Not to me. Not to anyone.

I couldn’t blame them, not really. If I were them, I’d keep her under lock and key, too. But the truth? I didn’t give a fuck about any of them. She might be their Princess now, but she was my Queen before she ever set foot in that clubhouse.

And now… now I had leverage. I had a location.

In the last five years, I took every opportunity that dangled in front of me and turned it into a weapon. I played the game so well within my family, they never even saw me take the board. I had no mercy; I was vicious in my control.

Now the family calls me theKaranlik Prens, or the Dark Prince. I don’t wear the crown. Not yet. But I own every shadow the light’s too scared to touch. My grandfather still breathes, still clutches tradition like it’s going to save him. The family thinks I wait out of respect, but they don’t know I’ve already laid the foundation to rip that crown off his rotting skull the second he falters.

Every move I’ve made, every body I’ve buried, every alliance I’ve bought or bled for… I built it all for her.

My Queen. My Duchess

And all she wanted to do was run away. But this cat-and-mouse game was starting to become a burden. One that ate at my soul. And I was not about to let it take me alive, not unless she suffered as well.

“How did you find her?” I asked.

“It was by pure accident, Sir.”

I dropped onto the dark leather loveseat across from my desk, the only comfortable seat in a room that was built to intimidate any weak soul who dared to enter it. The walls were lined with shelves full of books, files, and deep reminders of the men that I’d had to bury to get here. Smoke, leather, and dust clung to everything, but although it seemed harsh, it was familiar, and it was mine. A thick rug muffled the cold click of shoes, and the vault behind the shelves held truths better kept locked away. I swirled the last of my whiskey, watching Leon, and waved my hand to him to continue.

“She owns an escort service. Calls itViolent Delights.”

A smile curled on my lips. Of course she did. It sounded just like her, a pure, fucking violent delight.

“And how do I get to her?”

“You don’t. She’s been under the radar for years. Still goes by the nameDuchessin her inner circle.”

“Fuck. Me. She kept the name?”

“It seems like it, Sir. And she’s been untouchable for years.”

“That’s impossible,” I growled. “Nobody is untouchable.”

“Well, nobody we talked to has ever seen her. They didn’t even know what she looked like. She keeps off social media platforms and seems to have her own people in the dark web who move money for her. She doesn’t touch it.”

“Fuck. Me. Then how the hell did you track her?”

Leon raised a brow. “Did you know female biker clubs existed?”

I looked up, curious despite myself. “A female MC?”

“The Royal Harlots MC, to be exact.”

“So you’re saying she belongs to this…club?” I grimaced.

Leon smirked. “She doesn’t just belong to it, Sir. She’s the fucking President.”

I had to admit, I was surprised. Genuinely. It was the first time in years anyone had caught me off guard.

“And what about these Violent Delights?”

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