Page 80 of Dukes of Peril

This is one more thing he’ll need to atone for.

“Then don’t let him win,” I reply, the words sounding far more simple than the reality.

Sy’s face twists. “How are we supposed to just… do nothing?”

“He agreed that we can act as her protection,” Nick cuts in, glancing from his brother to Remy, “so that’s what we’re going to be. Nobody touches her. Nobody even fucking breathes on her.”

Remy makes a skeptical sound. “You’re really going to let a bunch of old fuckers put their eyes on your girl?” He shakes his head. “No way. This’ll be a fucking bloodbath.”

Nick snaps, “You think I want to? If this were just about what I want, Saul would be in a shallow grave somewhere. And then what?” He gestures to Sy. “I’d get my brother killed. I’d get you killed. I’d get myself killed. God only fucking knows what happens to Lavinia.” He glances at the ring on his finger, like he’s trying to remind himself of his role. “As leader of the Dukes, I can’t make rash decisions. That’s why I’m coming up with a contingency plan. Finding new customers. Making connections and hopefully a few deals. Expanding our territory so we’re not held hostage by that blackmailing asshole.” He looks between his boys. “He found a weak spot and I’m patching it up.”

“That’s very mature of you.” Sy grimaces down at his bleeding knuckles. “But I still want to kill him.”

“Get in line,” Remy says, still looking tired. “But, as much as it hurts to say it, Nicky’s right. We have to be smarter than these guys. FuckingKings. They don’t use brawn to get what they want. They use their brains, their power, and money. If Nicky is going to be one of them one day, he’s got to start thinking like them—like my father.”

The words hang heavy, because it’s the closest any of them have come to saying it aloud.

One day, Nick will be King.

To become King means taking down Saul.

“Shit.” Sy drops to the bed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Goddamn it.”

Listening to them talk, I know they’re right. It’s how I would suggest dealing with my own father. The Kings raise these men to be soldiers, not leaders. Why? Because they’re terrified they’ll lose their throne. Nick said something else that tugs at me, something that makes my palms sweat and my stomach churn. Something I’ve been thinking about since we left Saul’s office.

“It’s time for the other plan, Nick,” I announce. Six eyes shift my direction, and I know I don’t look like much. Just a girl in nothing but an ill-fitting shirt, bluffing with a raised chin. “Saul saw me have a panic attack after being forced in the elevator by Ewing. He knows my weakness too, which is worse than the blackmail. I have to face this head on.” I look between them, steeling myself. “Will you help me?”

14

Nick

Sometimes it’shandy to have a brother who’s studying psychology. It’s not like I don’t understand the word–desensitization–but he’s the one to explain the process.

Later that evening, he does.

“The point of exposure therapy,” he says, nodding to the elevator door beside him, “is for a subject to gradually experience their fears in a safe, controlled environment. The idea is that avoidance nurtures phobia, so what do we do instead?” Sy raises his eyebrows. “We face it, head-on.”

Remy shrugs. “Kick it in the teeth.”

I add, “Make it your bitch.”

“Exactly,” Sy says.

But when we all turn to look at Lavinia, she doesn’t look anywhere in the vicinity of bitch-making. She’s as far away from the elevator as she can be without just completely leaving the room, leaned back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed tightly.

Her shoulders hitch up closer to her ears. “So you’re saying I’m going to have to go inside there.” It’s not really a question. More like she’s trying to convince herself. She swallows, throat jumping. “All alone.”

I take an involuntary step toward her. “Who the fuck is saying that?” I whip a glare on Sy. “That’s not a part of the deal.” She’s the one who wanted to do this—it was her idea—but fuck, my Little Bird looks like she may puke, and I don’t exactly feel much better.

Sy shakes his head. “No, I actually think it’s best that you’re not alone. If you panic too much, you could hurt yourself. One of us should be with you in the car while the other two are at the top and bottom floors.” He lifts an eyebrow. “This isn’t about torturing you, Lav. It’s about making you comfortable. One step at a time.”

“Okay.” She doesn’t look or sound okay, but sure,okay.

“Where do you want me?” Remy looks up from where he’s sitting on the floor, body curved over a sketch pad.

Her face scrunches up like this is the hardest decision of her life. “Um…” she reaches up, rubbing the back of her neck in a strangely aggressive way.

When it’s clear she can’t answer, Remy offers, “How about I wait for you up here?

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