Page 32

Nowthatis a Baron trait I’m used to.

Remy scoffs, glancing at the cage. “Much like my new step-mother, she looks pretty trapped to me.”

DK smirks, and a chill runs down my spine at the way his face transforms. He’s got dimples. They might look sweet and disarming on anyone else. On him, they just look like a mockery of the feature, twisted and malicious. “Yeah, I got her. Took her in for a spay and treatment too, which inconveniently makes her my legal responsibility. Just one problem.” His eyes flick to Sy. “She’s already stuffed full of your little Archduke spawnlings.”

“Yeah, right,” Sy scoffs, eying the cage with disdain. “Any tomcat could have nailed her.”

“But only one tomcat is out there every Friday night, like...” DK releases a raspy chuckle, “Well, like clockwork.”

I step in, ignoring the way Nick inches in front of me. “Okay, sometimes Sy lets him out when we’re doing Friday Night Fury, but him knocking up another cat? That’s not possible.” I gesture to Sy. “Archie was neutered over the spring.”

DK doesn’t even blink as he nods to the carrier. “Didn’t look too neutered when I found him banging this one.”

The anger rises, my tone growing clipped. “Maybe you don’t know what ‘banging’ looks like, because—” But when I glance at my men, none of them are meeting my gaze. There’s a shiftiness about them that makes me pause, comprehension dawning like a brick to the head. “No fucking way,” I growl, jabbing my finger into Sy’s chest. “I told you to take him in! I made the appointment. I saw you leave the clock tower with him. So what the fuck?—”

“It’s not his fault,” Nick cuts in, tucking his gun away. “We put it to a vote. The whole thing was perfectly democratic.”

I gawp at the three of them, my head swimming. “Putwhatto a vote? Him being neutered?!”

Remy clucks his tongue. “He’s the Archduke, Lavinia. He’s royalty.”

Nick agrees, “You can’t cut a Royal’s balls off.”

“His swimmers are, like,” Remy scratches his temple, “sacred or whatever.”

I can’t even believe what I’m hearing. “So the three of you just decided to?—”

Sy stands to his full-height, cutting me off. “Forty-three, technically.”

My eyes bug out, the scale of the betrayalgalling. “Are you seriously telling me that the whole fucking frat voted on whether or notmycat gets neutered?!”

“Yeah,” Nick says in a slow tone, as if it’s the most natural thing to do. “We used our DKS pins.”

“Wait a fucking minute here.” Sy balks, uncrossing his arms. “Since when is heyourcat?”

My jaw cannot possibly drop any wider. “Since I’m the one who rescued him from Nick’s murder scene!”

“Not only am I the one who scoops his boxes and plans his diet, but you named him the Archduke,” Sy snaps back. “Faceit, he’s the DKS mascot now. And that kind of title comes with responsibilities.”

The whole thing is so absurd that it possibly breaks my brain because all I can think to respond with is one simple truth: “You lied to me.”

Some of that fiery outrage in Sy’s gaze melts away, but it’s not shame that replaces it. It’s aplea. “A man needs his balls, Lavinia.”

“And come on, you’ve seen them. You’ve had to.” Nick gives me a wry look. “Archie has some real fucking gonads on him.”

I gape at him, completely lost. “What?”

Remy nods. “He swings those beans around like kettlebells. You’d have to be blind. We all pretty much figured you knew but were letting it slide.”

The truth is, that’s a part of Archie I don’t pay much mind to. Sure, I pet him and brush him, but I’ve never thought to raise his tail and check the state of his testicles. Why would I? Suddenly I feel foolish, like I’ve been far too easily duped.

Mycat?

Atomcat?

With a steeling breath, I turn to DK, who looks almost as put-out as I do. “Since abortion isn’t an option,” I say, teeth gritted, “what exactly are you here for?”

“Call it child support.” DK pushes his foot into the carrier, sliding it gently closer to me. “According to the vet, she’s bound to pop by next week. Since the crypt isn’t exactly a place for a litter of kittens, I’ll come back to claim her in ten weeks. When she’s done,” his face pinches into pure, dripping disdain, “creating.”