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All I can think of is the haunting memories I’ve been working so hard to uncover. How the faceless monster that has been hunting me for months was close to home all along.

Timothy rubs his temples. “Are all the access points blocked off to the house?”

Damon nods. “Yes. We secured everything.” He makes a face, jaw tightening.

“What?” Timothy asks, leaning forward.

“There was some evidence that some that should have been closed off and inaccessible had been used.” Damon goes on to explain that there was disturbed dust and cobwebs. Some footprints. “Small. Probably female.”

Timothy pales. I know what he’s thinking–what we’re all thinking. This was going on right under our feet. In our hallways. Maybe even our bedrooms. I shiver and Damon’s arm snakes over my shoulder, pulling me against his warm body.

Hunter leans over the map. “Even if we close off the entrances to the House of Night and Saint Mary’s, and the other frats manage their territories, there are too many other spots around town. It’s not like she’s trapped in there.”

“I’m not looking to trap her,” Timothy says. “I’m looking to limit her options. She’ll get desperate and make a mistake.” He looks up at me, eyes softening for a moment. “But most of all, she’s not getting back in here again. I won’t let her get close to you.”

“But what about school?” I ask, my heartbeat starting to flutter hard in my chest. “The recital. It’s this weekend.”

“You’re not leaving the house,” Timothy says firmly. “Not until we find her.”

“But–” Emotion builds, thick and angry in my throat. “That’s not fair! I’ve worked too hard on it. I’ll let down the entire troupe.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not your problem, Ari. Madame Duval will understand.”

I doubt that. I glance at Damon. He’s frowning, fingers twisting the ring on his finger. “I’m not sure that’s necessary for Ari not to perform,” he finally says. “We’ll all be there. We can keep her safe. Plus, we all know she’s not the primary target right now. They need a Count.”

“Amber’s vendetta is more than some sacrificial ritual that she wants to fulfill. It’s personal. That much has been clear from the day she took what belonged to me.” His eyes flick toward me as he prowls the room. His shoulders are tense, fingers curling into fists. “Arianette has been targeted more than once–that’s a risk I’m not willing to take again. She stays inside the House of Night until this is over.”

“Until it’s over?” I repeat. He wants me to stay inside the House of Night. Another cage. More days lost. That’s all I can think about—all I can feel. Just the thought of it makes the walls start closing in around me–the air being sucked out of the room. I struggle for a breath, but Damon’s hand comes down on my leg, firm and comforting. He doesn’t let go.

“That’s not your decision,” Damon says calmly, but with an edge. “It’s mine.”

The words hit Timothy like a slap.

His expression changes almost imperceptibly. First comes the flash of annoyance, then something sharper underneath it. His jaw tightens as his eyes move from Damon to me and back again.

“You may be King,” Timothy says, his voice low, “but she’s my wife.”

My pulse jumps, and I glance over at Hunter. He’s quiet, watching the two men as the line is drawn between them.

Damon’s fingers tighten around my knee. “She belongs to all three of us, and you fucking know it.” His lips quirk. “Or did you forget that when she was warming our beds after you rejected her and went into hiding?”

A different kind of panic grips me. “Damon, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

“It’s okay, Doll Baby, I’ve got this.” Damon's hand slides from my knee as he stands. He doesn't move toward Timothy, but somehow the simple act of putting himself upright feels like a challenge.

“Taking care of Arianette isn't just about you,” Damon says, his head tilting toward Hunter. “It’s about all of us. It’s been the three of us these past few months—through the turmoil and chaos Beta Nu had to work through. We watched her sit by your bedside at the hospital. We listened while she told everyone you would wake up. We watched her advocate for you. Fight for you. Refuse to let anyone give up on you.” His eyes flick toward me. “So now I'm fighting for her.”

Timothy’s nostrils flare. “You think I’m not fighting for her?”

Damon holds his stare. “I think you’re scared, and I don’t blame you. The last time you took Ari somewhere in public, Amber’s people were waiting, and you got stabbed in the chest.”

A muscle in his jaw pulses, and he grinds out, “I wasn’t afraid.”

“It’s not a fear of being hurt or losing your life. We’re Barons. Memento Mori. That fear is from knowing that you’ll do anything for her.” He punctuates this by jabbing his finger at Timothy. “That’s what’s so goddamn terrifying. Not pain or death. It’s the fear of losing the woman that I love.” He looks over at me, and those normally stormy gray eyes are clear and bright. “But we can’t keep her safe while also locking her up. I won’t allow it.”

The panic that had been building, turns into something soft and warm. Hearing Damon say he loves me–out here in front of Timothy and Hunter–is a surprise. Timothy must feel the same way because the anger in his face softens, but only slightly.

“We’ll do what you think is best for Arianette,” he says, and I feel the tension ease by a fraction. “But when it comes to Amber, I need to have the authority to take her down myself.”