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“As you should have.” His agreement startles us all. “Your aim was true, and the injury was substantial enough for a blood sample. You and your brother both acted exactly as we’d practiced, and I’d like to reward you for your discipline.” He stands, reaching for a gold case on his desk, and holds it out to Pace. His smile is wide and bright, sending a chill up my spine. “For being the first to sound the alarm and for hitting your target, I felt like it was time.”

Pace regards the box before warily reaching out. Only when Father nudges it closer does my brother finally grasp it, a skeptical slant to his mouth as he turns it over, inspecting it. Slowly, he unlatches it, lifting the lid to reveal a key.

There’s a shiny metal crest on it.

Plucking it from the box, Pace frowns as the crest spins, the other side bearing a golden bull and a single word.

Lamborghini.

“You got me a car?” he says, gaze snapping up in shock. After his arrest, Father sold Pace’s prized Mustang. Since returning home from prison, he’s only been allowed to drive one of the vehicles in the garage downstairs. “A Lamborghini?”

Fully understanding the fear in Pace’s eyes, I edge a little closer. A gift this nice from Father doesn’t come without strings.

Even when he insists, “You deserve it for your hard work over the past few months. Your dedication to East End is worth rewarding.”

“T-t-thank you,” he stammers, looking equal parts surprised and nervous.

“And for Wicker…” Father announces, complete with a dramatic pause. “One night off, any event or obligation of your choosing.” My eyes ping between Wick and Father. This is big. Bigger than a Lamborghini. Father fixes him with a stern look. “I get veto power, naturally.”

“Of course,” Wick says, shoulders still tense. “Thank you for your generosity.”

There’s a long silence, and then Father says, “You’re both excused. I need a moment with Lagan.”

My stomach drops. Paces’ fingers pinch around the key ring while Wicker gives me a long look. I barely lift my chin, letting them know it’s okay. Whatever’s coming, I can handle it.

My brothers passed the test, but I wasn’t here. Anxiety rolls through me as the door clicks shut, and I’m left alone with Father. I force my gaze forward, away from the box in the corner. Will he make me go get it myself?

For the first time in my life, I wonder what would happen if I refused.

Standing, he rounds the desk, looking dangerously casual. “I’m aware you were at the clinic when the intruder breached the palace walls.”

The back of my neck prickles. “Yes, sir.”

“But,” he adds, “You promptly, and without arousing suspicion, searched the hospital records of various medical facilities to see if anyone was admitted.”

I nod. “Yes, sir. Unfortunately, there were no patients with gunshot wounds that night, nor in the following days.”

He hums, seemingly aware. “Even more evidence that it was an attack from another house. Most, if not all, are equipped with medics that can attend to a gunshot wound.” He leans against the desk, pressing his fingers together in thought. “Thad tells me that you took possession of the DNA and immediately secured it.”

“Yes, sir.” I swallow. “It was a solid sample. If you’d like me to hand over a portion to the police, I can.”

But he shakes his head. “No. I’d prefer not to get them involved at this point. There is another option, but it requires absolute discretion.” His eyes dart to the door. “Even from your brothers.”

My mind swirls, mostly from the realization that I’m not being punished. But what is this? What is he ordering now?

I bite back a sigh. “Whatever you need me to do, Father. You know I’m at your service.”

He nods, as if that’s all he needed. My absolute fealty. “I’m giving you full access to the palace blood samples. The likelihood that the intruder was someone we already have in our system, or a relative of someone in our system, is high. I’m sure you’d agree. I’d like you to begin running these against one another and see if you can find a match.”

My gaze whips to him, widening. “The entire database?” There are hundreds, if not thousands, of blood samples that Father has taken over the years. Every member of PNZ. Every man or woman tortured in the dungeon, every employee, every whore, every person father deemed necessary.

“An attack on my heir requires me to use the full force of my resources.” His eyes meet mine, a warning glinting through. “But you are the only one I can trust with this. And that includes the privacy of the donors of the samples and any connection to others. As the revelation about Verity being my daughter has proven, bloodlines among the Royals are thinner than the space between each territory.” He clears his throat, straightening. “Pace would love to get his hands on any bit of leverage he could use against our enemies, but he’s still too brash and impulsive. Whitaker doesn’t need any other excuse for petulance. The less he knows, the better. But you,” he gives me a knowing grin, “you understand the oath between a patient and their doctor. The sensitivity of this kind of information can’t be overstated. You’ll look at it under the lens of a scientist and find the bastard that dared threaten my blood.”

Reeling, I agree, “Yes, sir. I will.”

He hands me a slip of paper bearing nothing but a code.

A code that I know will open the security lock on the refrigerator where he keeps each and every sample he’s ever taken. It’s not a new car, or a night off, but it’s something much greater.