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Story: Princes of Chaos

Ballsack just gives a small, guilty, lopsided shrug.

“For fuck’s sake,” Nick mutters, eyes rolling. “He’s a kid. Probably chasing some East End pussy that convinced him to help her get an invite to the ball.” Thrusting a hand out toward the pile of raw meat his recruit’s become, Nick insists, “He’s harmless. He’s barely a player.”

“If that’s true,” Father argues, head tilting, “then perhaps we’ll rid you of such an obvious nuisance.”

Ballsack’s eyes widen, and he mumbles with alarm under the tape.

“No!” This protest comes from both girls in the room, Lavinia and Verity lurching up as if they’re in any place to make demands. Annoying, but it gives us all the information we need to know who has the upper hand here. With one word and two panicked glances, the girls have revealed Ballsack’s importance to the club.

Women.

Simon cracks his neck, falling back into his seat. “Fine,” he snaps, rage lurking just beneath the surface. “Let’s negotiate.”

6

Lex

Graciously,we allow Lavinia Lucia to attend to the prisoner as terms are made, her movements tightly controlled as she dabs his stab wound.

“First,” Simon is saying, “you keep your impulses and business to the East and North. Leave the West and South out of it.”

Pace looks up from inspecting the fresh bruises on his knuckles. Guess he got a few cathartic hits in on the prisoner before handing him over. “You’re including South Side in your negotiations? Is there something we should know?”

“Nothing that isn’t public knowledge,” Sy says casually. Too casually. “We have some shared business interests, and that means our protections need to extend to them.”

This is the first I’ve heard of this partnership, but my head has been under a pile of books. I haven’t been paying attention. I didn’t think I needed to, which unfortunately puts me and my brothers at a disadvantage. We haven’t been groomed for this position like the rest of them. As far as we knew, our future in Forsyth was strictly background.

“We’ll keep our business out of your territory as long as Miss Sinclaire is our Princess,” Father says, jotting something down. “Although none of this accounts for the Felix situation. You owe us a body in return, and if it isn’t her, then who’s it gonna be?”

“We’re not giving you anyone from DKS,” Nick says with an air of boredom. “That’s a non-starter.”

Simon is looking suspiciously pensive however, rubbing at his chin. “Or maybe we will–something that benefits us both.”

Pace leans back in his chair, arms folded. “We’re listening.”

“We recently had a problem in our ranks,” he explains, sharing a knowing look with his Dukes. “It’s been taken care of on an official level, but we’d like to tie up loose ends.”

Lavinia springs up, saying, “Oh,” in a tone that suggests she’s liking this plan.

I laugh at the thought of the Dukes doing anything delicate, but quickly catch the subtext. “You mean you can’t be seen doing the removal?” I ask.

Simon nods, looking put out. “This… problem of ours–he’s challenged my leadership, not to mention–” He cuts off, jaw clenching. “But he’s also a legacy. His family name holds weight in West End, and since I’m still a new King…”

“His family could organize against you,” Father surmises, putting pen to paper. “What’s the name?”

“Oakfield.”

Father doesn’t miss a beat, waving his hand. “They don’t hold any power in the East.”

“So we take this guy and get rid of him for you,” Wicker says, looking neither for or against it. We’re used to doing jobs, but they’re not usually of the getting-rid-of variety.

“Make him the trespasser on your property.” Nick jerks his head at the Baron King. “We’ll pay the Barons’ fee for disposal. Everything will look normal.”

Simon adds, “Once you have him, it needs to be discreet and final.”

“And hey, if it takes a while,” Remy offers, shrugging, “I’m just saying, we won’t lose any sleep.”

I look to my brothers. Clearly this Ballsack kid means something to them, but the truth is that Felix was a dumbfuck piece of trash who didn’t know how to mind himself. What the Dukes are offering–a man for a man–works. Pace gives me a slow nod, while Wicker waves his hand in the air, ready to be done with this.

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