Page 150 of Dukes of Peril

Lars looks between both me and Remy, eyes hardening. “But, sir–”

My father flicks his hand. “There’s no threat out here.”

Lars shoots me a look, then another long one at Remy, before walking inside like a good little lapdog. Remy keeps his distance, giving me space. He understands the need to confront a shitty father–a King.

Looking down, Lionel slowly removes his black leather gloves, finger by finger.

With the book clutched to my chest, I keep talking, my voice steady and sharp. “I thought you might want to know that he was planning to make her into his perfect little Royal slave. He sent a spy into North Side, and you didn’t even realize it. Probably because everyone was too doped up to notice.”

For the first time, he settles those dark eyes on me, sneering. “Look at you, all puffed up like I care what you have to say. If there’s pertinent information regarding my daughter–my real daughter–I’ll let your King tell me.”

I don’t stop. I can’t. I’m owed this. “Daniel’s virgin step-daughter didn’t work out, so he and Saul moved onto the next Royal in line. Someone more pure. Who better than a Lucia, right?”

His eyes narrow as he drinks this in, the glare so familiar that it evokes the scent of old wood and my own sweat. “Except he didn’t want you, did he? No one did. You were never anything but a spare. An attempt to create a male heir that went wrong.” The words slip from him like the hiss of a snake, evil but mesmerizing. “Your birth devastated your mother so much that she’d rather have died than continued on with the humiliating pretense of raising you.”

“That’s not true,” I snap. My fingers curl around the edge of the book as I remember the way Sarah spoke of her. “Face it. You poisoned her so much that she withered away. Just like Sutton. Just like all your Counts. Just likeLeticia.”

His eyes flash with something unhinged. “Why do you think she needed the drugs, girl? To take away the pain of failure.” He steps forward, tall and unwieldy as he bears down on me. “Your little act of defiance in West End has proven that you’re exactly what I always thought you were. A weak, pathetic, disloyal bottom-feeder. The fact that you’ve so easily succumbed to Stockholm syndrome during your time in this dump tells me that I should have locked you in that chest longer—made you stronger than some whore who spreads her legs to the first men that show you an ounce of kindness.”

“I am strong,” I hiss back, raising my chin. “And I’mnota whore, despite your best efforts to make me one.”

His eyes drop to my neck, to the drawing. “Ah, right, you’re the Queen.” A mocking smile tugs at his thin lips.

I square my shoulders. “You’re right. I am.“

He laughs and shakes his head, like I’m too stupid to understand. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? This little game of Royal sluts only exists to keep the young bucks in line. To keep them busy and focused,believingthey have something to fight for.” He looks around, eyes sliding past Remy. “Do you see any other Queens that have survived past producing spawn? Of course not.” He eyes me with palpable disgust. “You’re nothing but a liability. A poisoned womb. You may as well all be a Princess, for Christ’s sake.”

Shaking my head, I firm my jaw, insisting, “You’re just trying to absolve yourself of the guilt of killing my mother.”

He barks a cruel, icy laugh. “What guilt?”

My stomach falls as I comprehend the implication. I’ve heard it whispered around North Side, in the brothels. Lionel Lucia had a Queen once, but he didn’t like it.Too messy.

My throat suddenly feels like sandpaper. “You didn’t just kill her figuratively, did you?”

Instead of answering, he steps closer, venom dripping from his words. “Best case, Lavinia, is that these men tire and dispose of you. Worse is that you get them killed before they even have the chance.”

I want to tell him he’s wrong. To fuck off and stop spewing lies, but there’s truth in his words. I was never built to be Queen. I feel it in my bones. “My King loves me,” I say, hating that I feel the need to prove it. “The men in the West End know true loyalty–real honor–unlike your Counts.” I gesture behind me, toward North Side. “Your entire enterprise is crumbling. Your Count and Countess are both dead. The entire frat is doped up on Viper Scratch. We don’t need to destroy you. You’re doing it to yourself.”

His eyes flare dangerously. “Careful, girl. You’re talking to a King.”

I laugh, raising my arms. “Look around you. The guard is changing. Old men are getting picked off one by one, replaced by younger, stronger, savvier men and the women who support them.”

“Is that so?” He doesn’t look the least bit threatened. “You think I got to this place, this position, by being scared of a bunch of children? You forget, I can destroy this entire city, every quadrant of this godforsaken town, with the press of a button.” He bears down on me, lips pulling back to bare his teeth. “If you or any of your thugs come after me, you all go up in flames. The clock is ticking, Duchess.” His eyes brighten for the first time since he arrived. “Tick-Tock.”

Click.

Eyes shifting to the side, I see Remy standing a couple feet away, the barrel of his pistol pointed at my father. “Couldn’t help but notice that you’re getting a little too close to our Queen.”

Lionel exhales, rolling his eyes at what I assume he thinks are Remy’s dramatics. He won’t show fear. Not to him. Not to me. I don’t breathe until he’s sweeping away to disappear inside, behind the metal gym door.

Remy’s green eyes follow him the whole way, mouth twisted unhappily. “It’d be unwise to interfere with Sy’s first Royal meeting.” He doesn’t lower the gun until my father’s gone, tossing his arm over my shoulder. He tucks me close, adding, “But just say the word, and I’ll put a bullet into his head when he walks back out.”

“No,” I say, thinking of the threat my father just leveled–a reminder that this entire city is wired with bombs. His failsafe.Tick-Tock. I look up at Remy. “If anyone is going to kill Lionel Lucia, it’s going to be me.”

26

Nick

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