Page 24 of Dukes of Peril

“I know the last few weeks have been hard. You were told a Bruin was coming back to the belfry, and you probably had a lot of expectations I haven’t met. So if you can’t trust me as the leader of this frat, I understand. But here’s something you can always trust, no matter what I’ve done or what I’ll end up doing.” There’s a beat of silence where Nick’s eyes turn stony. “In one way or another, everything I care about–everyone I love–is a part of this club. And I’ll defend it with my life.”

The room is so still that his words are like a physical presence, and I can’t possibly miss the eyes flicking over me.

“For now, we circle up, look out for one another, keep a brother close. Protect the cutsluts. Protect theDuchessat all costs.”

Nor can anyone miss the muttered, “... but she’s a Lucia.”

Nick’s eyes dart around the faces, shoulders tensing. “Who said that?” Everyone glances around, looking, but when no one fesses up, Nick gives a chilling grin. “Boys, I’m tired and hungry, and I’ve got the promise of a tight pussy coming to me later on, so if you’ve got something to say, grow a pair of balls, look me in the eye like a man, and say it. I’m not here to break faces this morning.”

After a moment, someone steps forward.

Bruce.

The guy who attacked me in the gym, my first real day as Duchess. The man who Sy was ready to trade me to for a wristwatch. The guy who held me down, eyes full of thrill as he tore at my clothes. He doesn’t come around often for the victory parties, but I’ve seen him at the gym, at the fights, and up until now, he’s carefully avoided paying any attention to me at all. My blood buzzes with futile, bitter anger.

When I look away, my eyes stutter over Sy and the curve of his neck. Though his head is bowed, his posture is stiff, fists flexing.

Bruce’s mouth tilts unhappily, but to his credit he does look Nick in the eye. “I get what you’re saying, Duke. You’re a Bruin. You’ve got West End running through your veins, and whatever we might think about you working with the Lords, we can put our faith in that.” I feel more than see Bruce’s eyes on me, his voice turning cold. “But if that’s true, then we have to also trust that our Duchess–aLucia, for fuck’s sake–has North Side running through hers.” Bruce looks at the men around him. “Doesn’t anyone else think it’s weird that Viper Scratch is suddenly all over West End? Before she came, it wasn’t a problem. Are we just supposed to think that’s a coincidence?”

Nick’s face hardens. “It’s not a coincidence. Lionel Lucia has lost any hope of an heir. He’s on the ropes and spreading his product to all four corners. It’s not just West End.”

Bruce’s face twists, like he’s smelled something unpleasant. “You didn’t even fucking brand her.”

For a heartbeat the room goes still, until every eye snaps to Remy, who moves with a speed and agility I didn’t know he could access in his current state. His eyes flare with possessiveness as he grabs me by the waist, spinning me around while yanking the shoulder of my shirt down, revealing the bruin tattoo he gave me at the Hideaway. “The Duchess is marked. By my hand. Assisted by your Dukes.”

His eyes meet mine and we both know, weallknow, they marked me with more than ink that night.

Fuckanyonethat says I’m not branded.

Bruce holds up a hand, undeterred by proof. “Yeah, okay, but look. It was one thing when she was just a fun toy for Sy to show off in the locker room, but now you’re acting like… You’re acting like she’s one ofyou.”

Something in Nick snaps to attention, but just as quickly settles. “When we’d show her off in the locker room?” I’d know that look in his eyes anywhere. It’s the same efficient, terrifyinglyaloofmenace I’d seen in him the night he killed Felix. Nick nods, like he’s coming to a decision with himself. “You’re the one who tried to buy her with the watch.”

I’m not sure who jumps first–me or Sy–but we both dive for Nick at the same time, me clambering up onto the bar and Sy lunging for the hand Nick’s reaching for his gun with.

“Let it go,” Sy growls into his ear. A stiff, tightly contained tussle is taking place at the small of Nick’s back, where his pistol is located, but I don’t bother with that.

I grab his face, hissing, “If you kill this fucker right now, they’ll never follow you, and they’ll sure as hell never respect me.” But his murderous glare is fixed like a laser on Bruce, and I shudder at what I see in it. The soldier. The cold-blooded killer. The machine. “He doesn’t matter. He’snothing. Nick, look at me.” Unthinkingly, I strain up on my toes to press a kiss to his lips. “Please don’t,” I whisper, gentling him with another caress of my lips. “For me?”

Nick blinks, and when his eyelids lift, those blue eyes finally connect with mine. Sy jerks, the gun being suddenly released, and Nick grabs my neck. But instead of the hard, consuming kiss I’m expecting, he spins me around, forearm loose around my shoulders.

“This Duchess you think so little of, Bruce?” Nick’s lips brush across my temple. “She just saved your life.”

Bruce’s face is ashen but twisted in anger. Enough to know that this isn’t over.

“That wasn’t on Bruce,” Sy says, sliding the magazine from the pistol. “It was on me.” His eyes flick to mine, expression rigidly blank. To Bruce, he says, “Yeah, she was just a toy back then. Now she’s ours. If you’ve got a problem with that,” Sy jerks his chin, “there’s the door.”

Bruce holds up his hands. “Man, I’m just saying. One second, you’re offering her up on a platter, and the next you’re asking us to give our lives for her. Make it make sense.”

“It doesn’t need to make sense to you,” Sy barks. “Know that it makes sense to us.”

Nick’s arm tugs me firmly into his chest, voice full-throated against my back. “You all hate Lionel Lucia a lot. I hate him more than you ever will. But no one in this room,” he insists, voice growing louder, “no one in this whole fuckingcity, hates Lionel Lucia as much as this woman right here.”

My heart pounds at all the eyes on me, scrutinizing, looking for a crack, a reason to rebel. I’d say something in my defense, but I can see it’d be pointless. From Nick, they need words. From me, they need to see actions. A Lucia’s word isn’t worth anything. So I respond by reaching up, fingers curling possessively around Nick’s forearm.

Nick goes on, “You’re all nervous she’s feeding intel about us back to the Counts, but you need to stop and think that maybe the Counts should be the ones worrying about the kind of intel she’s offering us.”

I can practically hear his arched eyebrow, but more than that, I hear the slight shift in the room–forty men considering my use as an asset. Little do they know, if I thought it could truly help the Dukes, I’d tell them anything and everything.

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