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Still, I’m relieved when Sy dips close to say, “How about we go out for a drink tomorrow, and I’ll fill you in on the medical history.”

I exhale shakily. “Yeah. The colors are getting confusing.” I catch Killian’s eye and he shrugs. He and Pace have been building and arranging the furniture; a changing table and a bookshelf.

“She’s going to like that,” Wick says, gesturing to the chair in the corner. It’s the gift from the Lords and Lady—a rocker. “She’s going to love all of it.”

I don’t know how Maddox did it, but he managed to paint an entire garden on the wall. Roses rise from the floorboards, white and pure, while vines curl along the corners, hanging over the bed. There are the stars, a moon, and the silhouette of a bird taking flight.

When I point it out, Remy grins. “Oh yeah, that’s Effie. She’s a big soul. I bet the house loves her.”

Pace opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it, thinking better of it.

Smart.

That is, until he turns to Payne, saying, “Your FBI agent showed up here the other day.”

Killian instantly balks. “He’s notmyagent. And I heard he had a warrant.” The muscle in the back of Killian’s jaw tics. “Why are you pushing back on this anyway? I thought you wanted to find the girl.”

“I’m not sure why finding a missing South Side girl means harassing one of my guys,” Sy chimes in. “Ballsack is a good kid.”

“He may be,” Killian says, standing to his full height, “but he was in a relationship with her and one of the other girls who went missing. No one can name a better suspect.”

“You’re not going to find anything on him,” Remy says, adding a flourish to a rose beneath the window. “Ballsy’s been one of the sturdiest guys in the frat. Now he’s…” he picks up a tube of yellow paint and twists it in his stained fingers. “Sad.”

“For the record,” Wick says, “we do want to know, but we’re not too keen on Feds showing up at the palace gates, making accusations.”

Killian rolls his eyes. “Let’s face it. There’s no way for there to be an impartial investigation by the locals. The corruption runs deep, and it leads back to every single one of our houses.” Cops, judges, clerks, attorneys, politicians. He’s right. No one is clean in Forsyth. “And I’m aware that it seems like we’re meddling by using our federal contact, but it was the best we could do. We want answers.”

“This is your fault, you know.” Pace looks at Sy. “You and your fucking contracts, insisting on keeping an eye on Verity, and you swapped that kid across territory lines like a rubber band.” He shifts his attention to the Lords. “And honestly, I’m not so sure you didn’t have something to do with a girlfrom South Side conveniently applying to be an East End handmaiden.”

“That wasn’t us,” Tristian says, hand pushing through his hair. “But it was orchestrated. By Story.”

I frown. “Why?”

Mercer snorts. “You haven’t noticed how close those girls are?”

Every guy in the room stares blankly, confirming that none of us had noticed, and I think about how I had to push her out the door to go to the shower today.

“None of you have sisters,” Mercer continues, “but I do. There’s a vibe. Our women have a connection.”

Wick nods, face pensive. “I can see it. You know how women like to travel in packs. Ours don’t have that option. Not even with their court or,” he waves his hand at Sy and Remy, “or those cub-sluts of yours, or,” he shoots the Lords a look, “the whores at your brothel. Sure, they have other women to talk to, but no one who gets what it’s like to be Royal. It’s an exclusive club.”

“Tell me about it,” Killian says, rubbing his forehead. “Is this a problem?”

The question seems to be directed at Sy—the other King in the room.

“Fuck if I know.” He leans against the changing table, arms crossed over his chest. “The Duke in me wants to say hell no. But the psychology student in me…” He grimaces. “It says that if we want these women in our lives for the long haul, then they’re going to need some kind of support outside of us. Someone who knows what it's like to carry the burden of being a Queen.”

I shift uneasily. We’ve all just barely started speaking to one another, but the idea of Verity being a Queen of Forsyth…

It feels destined.

“Then we let it be,” I say, knowing it’s the right thing. And if it’s not…

Then the three of our houses will deal with it in our own way.

Just like we always do.

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