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“Where the fuck did you come from?” Remy asks, eyes narrowed at Wick like he’s seeing a ghost. I shoot my brother a look for using the hidden door next to the refrigerator, but the sound of wheels on the pavement takes precedence.

“Who is that?” Sy asks.

“Payne and Mercer,” Pace says, coming down the stairs. “I told Tommy he could let them through the gate. They said they needed to drop something off and willingly checked their weapons at the bridge.”

We have no business with the Lords, and from the tense set of Sy’s shoulders, I don’t think he does either.

Groaning, I demand, “No bloodshed!”

Sy holds up his hands. “No problem here. We promised Lav we’d be on our best behavior.”

The vehicle, a big truck, pulls to a stop. Whatever is in the back has been covered with a gray tarp.

Killian exits the cab, and Mercer follows from the passenger side.

“Perilini,” Killian says, nodding at Sy. “Maddox.” He shifts his gaze to me and my brothers. “Ashbys. We’ve got a delivery.”

“From our Lady,” Tristian adds, gesturing to the truck. “For your Princess.”

“A gift?” Wicker asks, eyes skeptical. “Why didn’t she take it to the shower?”

“It’s too big,” Killian says, glancing at Sy. “And it’s probably going to take three of us to get it upstairs unless you’ve got an elevator in this place.”

Pace narrows his eyes. “How do you know the nursery is upstairs?”

Killian and Tristian exchange a look, but the King replies, “Don’t get paranoid. I just assumed.” None of us have forgotten the condition of the nursery that we abandoned or the rumors that followed. “Anyway, she said you’d be here working on the room today and it would be a good day to drop it off.”

Remy assesses the two, apparently coming to a decision. “Sy, you can help Payne with that.”

Sy frowns. “I thought I was your trusted hands?”

Remy nods at Tristian. “You need a delicate touch to handle explosives. Anartist’stouch. Mercer’s with me.”

Tristian manages to look both pleased and insulted. “The only thing I know how to draw is my Beretta, and Pace made me check it at the gate.”

Killian sighs, relenting, “Whatever. Let Picasso and Matisse get started. I just need someone to help me get this upstairs.”

As an undergrad,due to Father’s influence, I’ve had the opportunity to observe physicians at the hospital. To witness the undeniable skill it takes to stitch a suture, keep a steady hand, set a bone. I’ve even experienced it myself when I’d saved Nick Bruin’s life.

It feels like a higher power is in charge and working through you.

I never thought much about art or being an artist, but I’ve gotta give it to him. Remington Maddox has a gift. Somehow, by just using his hands, chalk, and a paintbrush, he’s able to bring the walls of the nursery to life.

“This is pretty damn impressive,” Tristian says, eyeing the mural. “You didn’t do a draft or anything?”

“Psh,” Remy scoffs, dabbing his brush into the makeshift palette he made out of a piece of cardboard. “Nah, I just visualize it and then bring it to life. Although Vinny did specifically demand I add the butterflies.” He looks at Sy, fidgeting with a tube of paint. “This color is okay? You’re sure?”

“All colors are okay,” Sy answers, clasping his Duke on the shoulder. His voice is low and patient in a way I’m not expecting. “Plus, the blue and green make teal, right? Which makes it overpower the yellow.”

Remy breathes out slowly, assessing the finished product. “Right. To the victor.”

“Those stars are cool,” Tristian adds. “I like how they look like they’re hanging by a thread.”

Remy follows his gaze, pushing his wild, platinum hair out of his eyes. “That’s so the baby always knows how to get home, even when it’s dark.” He whips around, facing me. “Nightmares get in your head sometimes, Lex. You have to be watchful.” His stare is almost too intense—seeking and pleading. “You’ll watch him, right? Make sure he doesn’t turn green? Because my mom,” Remy’s eyes flick to Wicker, “she gave that to me through her blood.”

I straighten, startled. “Wait. You mean something hereditary?”

“I turned out fine,” Wicker offers, looking unconcerned.