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The only one who hasn’t showed yet is Harker. Aside from me, he’s the only other PNZ member in the group. It’s impossible to not feel the divisions. Even here, people flock together–the LDZs in their group by the window, the cutslut next to Maddox, and I save a chair for Harker.

Harker, whose girlfriend is pregnant.

He’d told us that during the last frat meeting.

I don’t need to create. Kira’s already six weeks pregnant.

It was a hard pill to swallow. Harker, not even Royal, has met Father’s expectations before the three of us could. Pace and Wicker can act like they’re just annoyed with his request to hire the Chamber’s strippers for the Valentine’s Day party, but I know the truth.

They hate him for the pressure it puts on us.

But since I’m the one who caught him buying Scratch at Wicker and Pace’s first hockey game back, it was up to me to decide how to handle it. De-crown him for breaking frat covenants, or drag his ass here and make sure he quits.

“Ashby,” Remy calls, looking up from his shoe. “Got a minute?”

On instinct, I look around, checking for trouble. I’d handed over the footage of Oakfield earlier in the day to the Lords, and everyone seemed pleased with the results.

“What do you want, Maddox?” I smirk. “Someone to check out that wound my brother gave you?”

“Nah. Matches the one my Duchess gave me the night we met.” A slow grin tugs at his lips and he lifts his shirt revealing his heavily inked torso and skirting his fingers over a thin line of stitches. “Pauly’s got a steady hand.” He drops the shirt and tilts his head toward the cutslut. “Maggie was just telling me about a rumor she’s heard. That a few girls have gone missing around Forsyth.”

What he says rings a bell, and I think about the flyers plastered around East End that Livingston got approval for at the last PNZ meeting. His sister hasn’t been seen since December. “And?”

“Andwe know you have a habit of snatching people.” From the scowl set on his face, it’s easy to assume he’s referring to that kid, Ballsack. “Any chance you’ve been collecting females?”

I level him with a hard look. “Zero. We’ve got our hands busy with our Princess, and every girl in East End is happy to spread their legs for a PNZ.” I cross my arms over my chest. “We turn them away at the Masquerade.”

Maddox narrows his eyes and looks–well, not at me, butaroundme–and nods. “Blue.”

“What?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Plenty of orange and gold in there, but I believe him,” he says to Maggie, and she seems to take this at face value.

“Whatever,” I mutter, not interested in further talk with a nut job, and start to turn away.

“Wait!”

I turn and see Maggie standing. Her eyelashes are thick, almost like feathers, and when she shifts, I see a ring glinting in her navel. “Our friend Laura has been missing for about a month. No one has heard a word from her–including the guy she was seeing. We’re worried. It’s not like her, and when I started asking around more, I heard that other girls, in other territories, have been disappearing, too. Like that one in your area, the Livingston girl?”

Shrugging, I reply, “We approved the flyers. I'm not sure what else I can do.”

“Just…” Her eyes shine and fuck. Is she crying? “Keep an eye out, okay?” Her arms wrap around her body and she rubs her arms. “People–women–feel scared out there.”

I look her in the eye. “The Princes don’t have any interest in hurting women. We find one and keep her comfortable.” I jerk my chin at Maddox. “But I’ll let your Dukes know if anything comes up.”

She exhales. “Thank you.”

Ignoring her, I glance at my phone. The meeting should have already started, and still no Harker. When the door opens, I’m already rethinking that de-crowning.

But Dusty, our fearless counselor, is the one who walks through it. “Evening,” he says in his gruff voice, adjusting the baseball cap on his head. At our murmured greeting, he stands in the middle of the room, hands propped on his hips. “Well,” he starts, and from the way he’s shifting, eyebrows pushed low, I get the feeling he’s not too happy.

Not that he ever really is.

“Afraid I’ve come tonight with some bad news, folks.” Here, he takes his hat off, raking callused fingers through his hair. And then he glances up at me. “I just got off the phone with campus admin. Sorry to say that Colby Harker is gone.”

There’s a rigid hush over the room, a dozen eyes shifting to me.

“It happened this afternoon,” Dusty says, pressing his cap to his chest. “Sorry, son. That’s all I know.”