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I hear him moving too late, my vision filled with the image of a stone-faced, ten-year-old Wicker on the screen, his chin held high. In the end, I think that’s what gets me so unbalanced in the moment; this new knowledge that Wicker had been trying so hard to be a man, when in his eyes, all I can see is a scared, lost boy.

That’s when Charlie makes his move, barreling toward me with a snarl on his face. Before I can get the gun raised, he’s shoving me into the cabinet of servers, and then lunging for his desk. In a few stumbling moves, he’s yanking a knife from a sheath hidden below the desktop.

It’s like slow motion the second he touches her, his fist wrapping around her silky hair as he hauls her from the seat. My vision zeroes in on that, even though it’s stupid. She’s crying out, folding in on herself as he places her in front of his scrawny body. The knife he’s pressing to her throat is far worse than the fist in her hair.

But it’s that first touch that does it.

“You Princes really are drunk on the smell of your own cum, aren’t you?” Charlie says, laughing. A moment ago, he looked half dead, but now, aside from the slump of his shoulder, he looks perfectly fucking fine. Verity squeaks as he yanks her head back, blade pushing into her throat. “After your last visit, I took some precautions.”

Staring into her panicked eyes, my next command is automatic. “If you don’t let her go, the next bullet I put into you will be the last.”

“Can’t do that, brother.” Charlie edges toward the door, dragging her with him. “What you’re after, it’s bigger than both of us, and we’ll all be smart to step away.”

I barely hear him over the rush of blood in my ears. “April, asshole. Who and why?”

“It’s not your fault. The foreign IP was sloppy, I admit,” he rambles. “I was rushed that night; didn't get to cover my tracks as well as I should have, which is a shame. I could have cleaned it up if you hadn’t gone so fucking overkill on security after-the-fact.” He grunts as they get closer to the door, wincing with every pull. “Now, I’m just gonna need a little leverage to clear this whole thing up. So cut it with the murder eyes; you’ll get her back.”

The whole time he’s talking, I’m assessing every movement, each limb, any hope of a target. But still, the reason we came here is starting to make sense. “What’s there to clear up? The night of the twentieth, you lowered the security and let someone onto the property. Someone who knew right where the Princess was sleeping.Youbetrayed your kingdom—and you threatened my family. That’s the minute you fucked up, Charlie. Tell us who you’re working for, and maybe we’ll let you live.”

But he shakes his head, almost at the doorway now. “Can’t do that. See, my boss is scarier than you and the Dukes combined, and he can—”

Verity lifts her foot and slams it down on Charlie’s, the burst of strength and agility leaving me reeling. She doesn’t seize the element of surprise so much as she snatches it, wedging a fist behind his forearm and punching it—and the knife—away from her throat. Then she brings her elbow back, slamming it into his stomach so hard that I can hear the breath leaving his lungs.

I don’t even have time to contemplate the fear gripped around my heart like a fist. The second I find a target, I pull the trigger, the bullet piercing his upper thigh.

He screams, but I barely hear it past the roar in my ears. I dive forward for Verity, dragging her into my chest. Even when I do, her breath shaky but so fuckingrealagainst my neck, I can’t feel anything but this sinking, numb dread.

“Holy shit,” I choke, the words as mangled as barbed wire. “He almost fucking—” I can’t even say the words—not until I touch the red mark on her neck, and then the swell of her belly. Not until I know she’s whole.

“I’m fine,” she says, even though she looks three shades paler. In the hallway, Charlie is writhing in agony, his screams piercing, but it barely registers. She stands there as I struggle to breathe, allowing me to check her over. “IamWest End, you know.” She turns, assessing him. “I was taught how to get out of simple holds from guys who are built stronger than a pencil.”

It doesn’t ease the doom that’s settled into my chest.

If anything, as I walk up to Charlie, watching him flop around on the floor, it just gets more intense. “Who are you working for?”

He screams through gnashed teeth. “You fucking shot me.”

“This is becoming a routine with us,” I say, racking the slide. “Wanna try again?”

“Shoot me all you fucking want,” he grinds out, glaring up at me. “Your father knows what I’m worth. He’d never let you kill me.”

“You still don’t get it, do you?” That look on Wicker’s face flashes through my mind. The gleam of the knife against Verity’s throat. The way it felt that night of April twentieth, shooting blindly into the night. But in the end, it all comes down to one simple fact, and when I point the barrel of the gun at his head, I’ve never felt more sure of anything in my life. “You were dead the second you touched her.”

23

Verity

The airinside the car is thick and warm, sweat building on the back of my neck. Summer’s going to be here in a month, but it already feels sweltering. Suffocating.

Or maybe that’s just the tension between us.

Pace fluidly shifts the car, passing a small hatchback, and I glance at his face. The line of his jaw is taut and sharp, dark eyes fixed on the road, and there’s a drop of blood right there on his neck that hypnotizes me.

He killed a man.

Wekilled a man.

Pace cuts a quick glance toward me, shifting uneasily when he notices me watching him. “You can turn on the air,” he gruffly offers.