Page 134 of Dukes of Peril

I press up against him, fisting my hands in his leather jacket. “You and Nick–you’re doing the right thing.”

Where Nick is rash and reactive, Sy is deliberate and thoughtful. They’re opposites of the same coin, and I know making this decision weighs on him. He’s the one who put the words out there, setting this whole thing into motion. Killing a King isn’t something anyone does lightly.

“All you’re doing is offering it up for vote,” I continue, searching his blue eyes. “If it’s not what the frat wants to do, then they won’t agree to it.”

“And we lose,” he says, looking down at me. “Until the last few months, Saul has had my loyalty and respect. You’ve seen him with some of these guys, Lav. As far as they’re concerned, they may still trust him.”

I give his jacket a tug, as if I could shake the doubt right out of him. “I think Nick has more support than you realize.”

“Well,” he swallows, eyes shifting over my head, “if we don’t, then it’s essentially a vote of no confidence–a failed mutiny. We’ll have to pack our bags and go.”

I shrug, unbothered by the thought. “Hey, moving from shitty place to shittier place is kind of my expertise.” I wind my arms around his neck, drawing his gaze to mine. “But at least we’ll go together.”

He exhales, the line on his forehead smoothing slightly as he tips down to meet me with a kiss.

Secretly, a part of me wonders what my place would be in that scenario. If I’m not a Lucia and I’m not a Duchess, then what am I? If I don’t have the tightly constrained boundaries of the Royalty hemming me in, then what do I become?

Maybe I’ll just be theirs.

It’d be enough.

“Everyone’s here.” Remy slides up against my back, interrupting our kiss to press his mouth to my neck. “Ready to make history?”

Nick appears behind him, giving his brother a single, assured nod. “Do or die.”

Nick climbs into the ring first, followed by Remy, who reaches down to take my hand and haul me up. Sy lifts me by the hips and then follows after me, ducking between the ropes. The square is occupied only by the lone judge’s table they dragged up here on arrival.

Nick walks over to the bell and yanks the cord, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. The boys are clustered around the tables we usually reserve for Family Dinner and they begin turning to us, expectant and eager.

“Let’s get started,” Nick says, addressing the room. Sy and Remy take their seats on each edge of the table, Nick in the middle. I sit between the two brothers, resolved to remain silent and as unobtrusive as possible. For a win to stick, it needs to be clear that Nick is working independently of any outside influence. There’s an official process for all this, and we did our best to absorb all of the information in the charter and bylaws. Saul was right. Tradition means everything here–especially when it involves the sitting King’s downfall.

“Here’s the deal.” Nick’s aloof composure comes in handy here, his blue eyes assessing the crowd. “You guys stuck by me when I stepped up to frat leadership, and I’ve worked my ass off to make that matter. But the truth is, Saul Cartwright feels threatened by having a Bruin in the belfry.”

Some of the guys murmur in obvious agreement, Saul’s moves the past few weeks not exactly having been subtle.

Nick goes on. “He’s exerting his power with a heavier hand than we deserve. Not just the Dukes, but DKS, too. How many wins did Saul cost us with his probation last month?” A sour rumble comes over the crowd and Nick leans back, tapping idly on the table. “It’s only going to get worse from here. He’s willing to come after not just us, but the people we care about, and that’s not something arealDuke would tolerate.”

Nick cuts his eyes to Sy first, then Remy, but they let him be the one to say the words.

It has to be him.

His blue eyes fall to the ring on his finger, jaw tightening. “That’s why I’m presenting a motion to issue a death warrant on our King.” The room falls into a sudden hush, all eyes on Nick.

And then it erupts into a roaring, surprised rumble.

“Hey!” Sy stands, knocking his fist on the table to get their attention. His eyes harden as he meets their gazes, one by one. “I know how this probably looks, but you need to understand. We tried working with Saul. We bent over fucking backwards. This was the last motion we wanted to bring in front of you guys.” He shakes his head, glancing at his brothers. “You know I don’t take this lightly. I’m not just angry at Saul for turning on his Dukes. To be honest, I feel betrayed. Like all of you, I followed Saul for four goddamn years. And what did it get me? A noose around my neck, all because my brother and Duchess happen to have two last names that Saul feels threatened by.”

Remy speaks up then, raising his chin. “Saul may be our King, but Nick’s a Bruin, born and bred. He has the blood right–”

Porterfield raises a fist in the air, shouting, “Seconded!”

A flutter of something terrifyingly like optimism grips my chest as I watch a couple other guys agree, on the spot. Even Nick looks surprised, his eyes darting to mine, and for a second, Sy is speechless.

He eventually finds his voice, clearing his throat. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had one of these in West End. As most of you know, twenty-five years ago, Davis Bruin was voted out and Saul Cartwright was voted in. I want to reassure everyone that this isn’t revenge for some ancient family beef. It’s righting a two-decade-long error that has done nothing but put us in a position of risk.” There’s a short, pointed pause as Sy’s shoulders tense for a reaction, but it’s unnecessary.

No one argues.

Nick raises his voice to add, “When it comes to this, DKS is a democracy. You all brought your fraternity pins?”

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