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The group is already in motion. The ballet, flowers and the high of the performance—all of it is forgotten in an instant. I don’t know where we’re going, but Hunter does. He herds us efficiently into a practice room off the main theater, shutting the door firmly behind the last person. The space is narrow, lined with mirrors and ballet barres, the air still faintly scented with rosin and sweat.

“How do you know this is connected?” Damon asks once we’re all inside. His hand finds mine, fingers threading together.

“Because this was sent to the Hideaway.” Killian opens his phone and thrusts it outward. On the screen is a photo of a small box lined in dark velvet. Nestled inside is a stag beetle—the same kind we found stuffed in Kelsey’s mouth.

My brain scrambles to keep up. Augustine is connected to the Lords. Why would Amber take her when she already has Stella?

“It came with a note,” he adds, flipping the phone back toward his face. “The soil remembers every sacrifice. Spring rewards them all.”

“What the hell is going on?” Verity asks, arms crossed tightly. “This doesn’t match the Guardian’s pattern at all. Why would she take a second girl connected to the Lords?”

Killian’s jaw is clenched so hard a muscle jumps near his temple. Story looks up at him, and he grimaces. No one expects what she’s going to say next. “It’s because she’s linked to the Counts.”

“The Counts?” Lavinia blurts. “That’s ridiculous. You’d think I’d know if Stella or Auggy were from the North.”

“It’s not ridiculous," Killian admits. “Not when her grandmother was a Countess.”

“Delores,” Remy says, his green eyes pinging around. “Mrs. Crane is a Count? Make this make sense. Now.”

The room goes still as the pieces begin to surface. Killian exhales through his nose and starts explaining. “Delores’ husband, Harlan Crane, was a Count."

The name means nothing to me, but every royal in the room is listening closely.

“They weren’t the same class as Lionel and your mother.” Killian glances toward Lavinia. "He was into the flesh trade–at first just hustling the girls affiliated with KNT, but eventually he and Delores expanded out of North Side and started a lucrative brothel down on the Avenue.”

My stomach twists.

"So... he was a pimp?" Lavinia asks.

Killian snorts. "Calling him a pimp is like calling your father a pharmacist." He shakes his head. "The guy was a monster. He beat the hell out of the women who worked for him, including his wife, regularly. Everybody knew it. Delores showed up black and blue one day and back to business the next. Nobody stepped in because..." He shrugs. "That's just how things worked back then."

My fingers curl tighter around Damon’s.

"But don't mistake her for some helpless wife," Killian continues. "She was the brothel’s madam and his right hand. They were making enough money that I think it made Lionel nervous."

"So what happened?" Remy asks.

A humorless smile crosses Killian’s face. "She got tired of getting hit, and one night she picked up a knife and buried it in his neck." He pauses as the reality sinks in. "Seven times."

“Fucking badass,” Lavinia whispers. Both Story and Verity quietly nod in agreement.

“Did she go to prison?” I ask.

"Not for long, but when she got out, she figured she’d support herself with the brothel. She'd helped build it, after all." Killian scoffs. "The problem was, Lionel never liked the power the Cranes had. He wanted North Side focused on drugs, and he was knee-deep in developing Scratch by the time she got released.”

“Oh, shit,” Lavinia says, nodding like she already knows where this is going. “He shut it down, didn’t he?”

"He didn't give a damn that she'd spent years building the motel into a profitable business or have an ounce of empathy for what she'd survived." He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. "For Lionel, drugs were easier than people. Cleaner, and more profitable."

“So she had nothing,” Story says quietly.

Killian nods once. "Just like that. She had no money, no power, and no home." His expression hardens. “In the process, she lost her son to Lionel and drugs. But not before he–”

“Had two daughters–Auggy and Stella,” Lavinia says quietly as the connections click into place. “Which means they’re legacy.”

“How did she end up working for the Lords?” Lex asks, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “How did a former Countess end up with you?”

“My father took her in,” Killian says, rubbing his neck. “He and Harlan had worked together since he’d agreed to let them purchase the motel in the Avenue even though it was in our territory–for a cut of the profits. By the time she came to us, my dad had taken it over, but he kind of just gave her a place in the family, like a twisted version of the worst nanny-grandmother ever.”