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I take the opportunity to leave the chaos of the living room and head back to my bedroom. I enter cautiously, still all too aware that this isn’t my home, and find Remy peering into the mirror over the dresser. Lavinia stands over the bed, grabbing for a pillow, and it’s only when I step inside that I notice the knife in her hand.

“What are you—”

Riiiiiiip!

The knife cuts through the fabric, stuffing spilling out of it like a gutted fish.

“Really?” I ask her, looking at the mess. “You think they bugged my pillow?”

“No stone left unturned,” she says, eyeing the mattress.

I start to jump in front of her, but Remy gets there first, plucking the knife out of her hand. He bends to place a gentle kiss on her shoulder. “You know I love it when you turn red, Vinny, but let’s leave the bed intact. I’m pretty sure the padding would make a device ineffective.”

“These guys are ruthless,” she argues, looking frayed. “They’ll do anything to keep an eye on her.”

Remy and I share a look, but while his expression is full of confusion, I understand exactly what’s going on.

“Lav,” I begin, instantly feeling frustrated that we can’t have any privacy.

But she curls her fists. “It’s not fair.”

“That she’s being watched?” Remy asks, scratching his head. “I mean, she’s a Royal, baby. Them’s the breaks.”

Lavinia deflates, but I give her a small nod to show her I understand.

It’s not that I’m being watched.

It’s that Lavinia is free, and I’m not.

Since I can’t go into that with Remy here, I relent, “Pace would want everything as high-tech as possible.” Thinking back to the security footage in his room, I remember that he always covers multiple angles, and the images are disturbingly clear. I look around the room, up in the corners, anywhere with a clear view. “He wants to see everything.”

All the time.

“I already checked the toilet seat,” Remy says proudly, spinning the knife around his inked knuckles. “Spick and span.”

“Gross,” I mutter, a heaviness sitting on my shoulders.

“Although I believe the jailbird has skills, this all feels next level.” His eyes dart to Lavinia, a comprehension flashing between them. In a creepy unison, they say, “Charlie.”

“Charlie?” I ask.

“He’s Ashby’s pet tech slave,” she explains. “Creepy little fucker. I bet they’re working together, even after Nick—” She clamps down on a growl. “I bet he’s responsible. I told Nick he couldn’t be trusted.”

I hear what they’re saying, but Pace… the way he talked to me that night in bed before I left the palace…

“He wouldn’t leave all of this up to someone else,” I decide, squirming uncomfortably. Sometimes, it’s like I can feel his eyes on me. The energy of them. The intensity. It burrows into my bones like an inescapable hum, possessing me with the urge to look over my shoulder. “It’s… personal for him. He’s the cat, I’m the mouse. Even if we found every bug, every secret camera, he would have a backup measure.”

“What?” Lavinia asks, studying me. “What are you thinking?”

I look at Remy. “How do you make sure Lavinia is safe—like all the time?”

His hand comes around her neck, his thumb gently sweeping the skin beneath her ear. “She’s chipped,” he says nonchalantly, then frowns. “They didn’t tag you?”

“Of course they did,” I answer, touching the same spot on my neck. “But I don’t know very much about how they work. Can you use it to… listen to her?”

Lavinia looks alarmed at the implication, eyes pinning her Duke. “Wait, is that a thing? Have you guys been—”

“Fuck no,” he says, thrusting his palms out defensively. “It’s just a tracker. And the Royals only started using them because of your dad.”