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She shakes her head. “No, the girl.”

“That’s Story Austin.” Apparently, Hunter is a Royal search engine. “His Lady. He’s best friends with the King, Killian Payne.”

“Majestic, like a lion,” Arianette murmurs, “rawr.”

Hunter stares at her, probably trying to decipher her nonsense.

“He may have the power, but his other best friend, Tristian Mercer, is from one of the wealthiest families in town.”

“Oh,” Arianette’s expression brightens, “his name is on the concert hall on campus.”

“How, and why, do you know all of this?” I ask. Sure, I know who Killian Payne is, and the guy over in the next box is Simon Perilini, but these were the entitled, rich fuckers I loathed in high school. I did my best to forget all of them, but here I am,oneof them.

Christ.

I can’t help but notice that the Prince’s box is empty–not a surprise given the fact Verity Sinclaire just had her baby. The Counts… well, no one knows if that box will ever be occupied again–at least by Royalty. There’s one left–the Barons–and there’s no sign of the King.

He shrugs. “First, I already knew who they all were, but once Nick Bruin accosted us on campus I decided to do a little more research.”

Of course he did.

Over the ring, I see a sign listing tonight's fights. Up next is a DKS matched up to another LDZ. Then the final, and main fight will be Porterfield, one of the current Dukes, against Alvarez–Mateo.

I feel a little shitty sending him in for the first fight of the year, but neither Hunter nor I are ready for a matchup. I can hold my own, but these fucking Dukes crawled out of the womb with gloves on. I search the crowd. “Do you see Mateo?”

“Maybe he’s already in the locker room getting ready,” Hunter suggests. He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a flask. He unscrews the top and takes a drag, then offers it to me.

“Fuck yes. Thanks, man.” On the first swallow the whiskey burns going down my throat. The second goes a little smoother. I feel those brown eyes on me as Arianette watches.

“Want some?” I tilt the flask toward her.

She shakes her head.

“Hmm.” I tilt the flask back and take another sip, this time holding it in my mouth. I grab Arianette and press my lips against hers, forcing her lips apart. The whiskey releases slowly, from my tongue to hers. Her tongue laps against mine, the alcohol strong.

She coughs. “It tastes like medicine.”

Hunter nods across the room as I hand him back the flask. “Over there.”

A group from BRN is huddled by the wall. Frat brothers we went through initiation with, along with a few familiar crypt chasers, who assess the Baroness with their heavily made up eyes. I don’t usually get into girl-shit, but there's definitely a territorial vibe between the chasers and Arianette.

“You made it.” A junior named Rob steps forward. “Want a beer?”

I shake my head. “Is Mateo getting ready?”

He glances around. “I saw him earlier…”

The fight bell clangs, ending the LDZ/PNZ fight. The Prince is being carried off the mat by two of his frat brothers, blood dripping from his mouth. At least Rathbone will be happy.

“I guess we can grab some seats–”

Carson pushes through the group and looks between me and Hunter. “We’ve got a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

His jaw clenches and he jerks his head. “Follow me.”

“Hooaarrk.”