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“We were just?—”

“Getting off your feet,” she answers for me, shooting Wicker an incredulous look. “She’s thirty-eight weeks pregnant.”

His jaw drops, the ladle in his hand thrust in my direction. “She said she had to! She gave me the big, sad eyes and everything.”

Mama snorts. “Falling for the pout. Bush league, blondie.”

I insist, “I’m fine, Mama.” Although it is a little hot in here. “We’re almost done.”

“You’re already done.” Retreating, she holds up a finger in her infamous ‘you have one minute’ command.

“Go,” Lav says, looking guilty. “You’ve already been a huge help. We’ll finish getting this ready, and then we can all eat before the vigil.”

I exit the kitchen, where Mama is waiting with her hand on her hip. She’s mad, but she’s also worried and sad and all the things that are swirling around in my stomach like a storm.

Pushing aside my anger, I beeline to her, collapsing into her arms.

She instantly gathers me up, sucking in a huge breath. “Oh, Ver Bear.”

I inhale the scent of her, allowing myself this comfort. “I’ve seen a lot of bad things since becoming Princess, Mama. Things that were so bad, Rufus Ashby had to be eliminated, but whoever did this…isdoing this…” My voice cracks. “He may be worse than Ashby or the other Kings combined.”

At least Danner gave them a quiet way out.

“We’ll find him,” she says, stroking my hair back. “He’s getting sloppy. One escaped girl, and another one shows up dead? He’s not going to be able to hide for long.”

It’s there, in the warm silence of Mama’s arms, that I hear the first phone go off.

Thedingcomes from somewhere behind me—barely a distraction—but then a series of other notification sounds swellall around the gym until Sy’s booming voice punches through the room.

“237!”

23

Verity

“Load the girls up!”

Mama and I jolt back, her eyes flying wide. “No,” she says, swinging around to watch as DKS members begin yanking guns out of their pants and jackets, handing them off to the nearest cutslut. “Not here. Not now!”

I spin as Maggie rushes past me toward the lounge, loaded up with three pistols. Behind her, the other girls scurry in the same fashion, and I don’t need to ask what’s going on. I was one of them once. A call of 237 to load the girls up?

Wick slams out of the kitchen with Kaz, his blue eyes meeting mine. “What is it?”

I run to him, wincing as my stomach clenches. “It’s a raid. They’re coming to?—”

A deafening crash echoes as the front doors splinter open, the heavy thud of boots reverberating through the building.

“Everyone, down on the ground!” a voice bellows, and suddenly there are a dozen guns pointed at the room.

What erupts next is the embodiment of 237.

Mayhem.

Nick Bruin takes out his gun first, stepping in front of Lavinia as he points it at the cops. Weasel and Kent follow, drawing their pistols, and I’m stiff with panic as Wicker pulls me behind him. I don’t even realize Remy’s up in the loft section until he suddenly drops down, landing beside me, Kaz, and Wicker, poised to strike.

Shouts fill the room from either side, DKS enraged as the officers bark orders with a precision that doesn’t even begin to cut through the chaos.

Not until Mama’s voice rings out over the loudspeaker. “Every cub in this room better lower his fucking gun right this instant!” There’s a tense beat where my heart hammers wildly, Wicker backing up into me as if he could hide me. Slowly, DKS begins obeying, guns being lowered with tense jaws and flared nostrils. Glancing over to the box seats, I catch sight of Mama leaning over the betting table, growling at the police through the microphone. “This is a vigil for one of our own. How dare you choose today to come bursting in here, guns blazing? Show some fucking respect.”