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But if I was dead, I wouldn’t be able to see it.

His lips pull back into a sneer. “You are such a bitch.”

“Yeah, well, at least I’m not a whore.”

The car slows, coming to a stop, snapping us out of our standoff. Wicker’s nostrils flare with a thin restraint, but he releases me with a small shove, slumping back into his seat. Rory hops out, and I swallow, trying to settle my racing heartbeat.

By the time he opens the back door, I think I may look composed.

“After you, Princess,” Wicker says, voice back to its lazy tone.

Rory offers me his hand, and I pause, glancing toward it and then back to him. It’s the same hand that stroked his cock as he stood over me, and sometimes I wonder about it. This is the same boy who was so upset that his sister had gone missing. How can someone care about one girl while abusing another?

He shifts, feet shuffling as he waits for me to take his hand.

I step out of the car myself, edging around him.

Standing next to Stella, I smooth my skirt and assess where we are. There are invisible lines all over Forsyth, borders that define the parameters of each frat. There’s no way the men who originally came up with a common social system would have known it’d devolve into this.

A black SUV is parked across this barrier, and Nick Bruin leans against the side of the car. He’s in a tight black T-shirt that reveals the dark ink that marks his skin. His arms are crossed over his chest, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle. Ballsack stands a foot away, hands shoved in his pockets, his eyes trained on our car.

“Rory, grab the luggage,” Wicker says, watching Nick. Ignoring my wince, he throws an arm over my shoulder and draws me against his hard side. “Remember, you may live with them, but you belong to us.”

I’m not expecting it when his hand captures my chin, wrenching my face up to his. I’m expecting the ensuing kiss even less. Wicker licks out, parting my lips so expertly that it’s startling—as if my body has fallen traitorously in sync with his.

It’s a hard kiss, full of teeth and a strength that I can’t even hope to match. I clutch the collar of his shirt in a fist and ride it out, desperate to ignore the way he’s palming my backside, making my skirt ride up.

“Jesus, Ashby,” Nick says, pushing off the car, “stop dry-humping her and check the product so we can get the fuck out of here.”

Wicker bodily pushes me away, likeI’mthe one who was kissinghim. “I will as soon as you bring what you owe me.”

Ballsack emerges from the back of the SUV carrying a crate in his hands—I’m assuming the guns Ashby requested at the negotiation. Wicker and Nick eye one another and nod. I’m pushed across the ‘line’ while Ballsack and Rory make a trade, the guns for the luggage.

“Is this all?” Wicker asks, following Rory around the back of the vehicle. He rests the crate on the tailgate and wedges off the lid.

“That’s just a sample of what we have to offer,” Nick says, eyeing my throat with a scrutiny that suggests Wicker may have left fingerprints. “Tell your brothers to test those out and make an order, and we’ll deliver the rest at the next drop-off.”

Wicker inspects the contents, reaching in and pulling out a revolver. I’ve never seen Wicker hold a weapon before, and it’s strange seeing those slim fingers, used to expertly play music and make passes across the ice, gripping the handle as confidently as the bow of his cello or the neck of his hockey stick.

Our eyes meet, and I feel the memory of his fingers on my throat, a strange twist of heat in my chest.

“We’ll be in touch,” he says, placing the gun back in the crate. He brushes off his hands. “See you on campus, Princess.”

“Get in the car, Ver,” Nick says as Rory slams the trunk. He glances at Stella. “You, too.”

I climb in the front seat while Stella and Ballsack get in the back. Once I’m inside, I release a long exhale. That went faster than I was expecting, and I’m grateful, so relieved that my muscles go lax all at once.

For the first time in weeks, I feel like I can breathe.

“Everything go okay after we left yesterday?” Nick cuts his eyes to me. “I mean, no one took anything out on you for us showing up like that? Because, look, we tried, but Mama B found out about the ceremony and lost her shit. There was no stopping her.”

“No.” I spin the crown ring around my finger. I don’t know if it’s just the newness of it or the sparkly metal, but I can’t keep my eyes off it. It’s like the minute they put it on my finger, I felt different.

Owned.

“The palace was operating as normal.”

I catch Stella’s eye in the side mirror. We’d discussed before leaving that I would adhere to the covenants. Neither of us would orcouldreveal a word about the inner workings of East End. I’m taking Pace at his word. He’s watching.