Page 133 of Dukes of Peril

Nick scowls. “Well, we can’t just fucking let him keep walking all over us.”

“I know,” I say, touching his cheek, rough with a couple days of stubble. “But your brother is also right about the fact they’ll vote for you.”

“We’ll see.” Not looking terribly convinced, he rests his head back against the bloodstain, muttering, “Tonight.”

“Tonight,” Sy agrees. In a way, I suspect is more for my benefit than theirs, he adds, “I’ve already put out the notice. Everyone will be there.”

“What about the video?” I reluctantly point out, not wanting to rain on anyone’s parade. “Saul said if anything happens to him, it’ll be distributed.” Fucking Kings and their failsafes.

Nick shakes his head. “I’ve been working on it. I’ve got an inside guy who can intercept.”

Dread builds in my gut. “An inside guy?”

“A guy like Saul always miscalculates how many enemies he’s collected,” he explains, palm warm against my knee.

It makes me uneasy. Inside guys are always unpredictable. But I stand by what I told Nick last night. I trust him. “Are you ready?” I wonder, watching him carefully.

“To kill Saul?” He snorts, eyes gleaming in delight. “Absolutely.”

I shake my head. “To take over West End?” I know better than anyone what this means. How that title changes a man. Changes their family and the woman that supports him.

And from the way Nick’s eyes go dark, he understands this, too.

Remy’s voice fills in the resulting silence. “Kingdoms have done worse.” Then he yawns, triggering the rest of us. It’s the signal we should all get as much sleep as we can before the big vote. It’s hard to trudge to Sy’s bed with the three of them, knowing that when we wake up everything will be different.

We’ll be different.

Only in a fratwould a meeting be called after dark. But true to Sy’s word, the guys roll in the gym, everyone looking alert and eager to find out what’s going on. There’s no doubt word has spread about the poker game, as there’s little hope Bruce kept his mouth shut about what happened during and after. And with the silent looks that I keep getting, I feel like they can see the ugly DKS brand on my shoulder, despite being covered in a bandage and two layers of clothing.

I stand with Sy near the back, nervously watching them all filter in. My blood is energized in a way I’m not used to, rushing thick and fast, as if something monumental is about to happen.

Sy draws my attention with a touch, his fingers lifting my chin so he can assess my jaw for damage. It’s the millionth time tonight one of them has made me hold still so they can look at the blossoming bruise from Brice’s palm.

His jaw goes taut. “You hear from your girl? Kathleen, right?”

I hold up my phone. “I got a text.” It’s nothing but a string of emojis. Thumbs up, kissy face, green-sick face, and a cookie.

Sy frowns. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Rolling my eyes, I tuck my phone away. “That means everything’s good. She and Greta are entertaining him. You can get started.”

Ballsack, who has been manning the door, walks up with a worried expression. “We’re at thirty-nine. Should we wait?”

A nervous laugh bubbles in my chest, and I cover it with a cough. He might be expecting forty DKS members, but the Dukes and I aren’t. Bruce’s interception by Kathleen and the confirmation text means he should be high on enough Viper Scratch to make him forget his own name.

I put that ball into motion the second the three of them fell asleep.

“You know the rules.” Sy’s arms cross over his chest, striking an appropriately authoritative stance. “A member must arrive at the meeting by the clearly communicated time to gain entry and vote.” He jerks his chin to the front. “Lock the door.”

Ballsack grins. “Got it.”

I still feel a twitch of worry that he’ll figure it out and show up, and from the way Sy tracks Ballsack’s path to the front, I’m not alone. It’s not like things have been going our way lately. I exhale when I see the door shut and Ballsack engages the lock. After last night, I figured Bruce would be in the mood to let off some steam. The goodwill I’d earned from giving the girls some autonomy has paid a lot of dividends.

From beside me comes Sy’s quiet rumble. “Good work, Lavinia.”

When I turn to him, he’s staring out over the faces of the frat, and even though the hard lines of his expression may seem inscrutable to anyone else, I see the tic in his jaw. The burgeoning wrinkle between his brows. The compulsive way he’s tapping forefinger and thumb.

I’m not the only one worried.

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