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“You know, wanting to fuck me wasn’t really a surprise.” I look at her face, noting the too-smooth skin over her eyebrows and cheekbones. “They all wanted to fuck me.” I shake my head. “It was more about what he said.”

“What did he say?” she demands a little too desperately. “What were his last words?”

“He said he was sent there to do the dirty work of others.” I watch her closely. “He said that I never should have run, and this is exactly why you have to die.”

Trudie’s talon-like fingers are still wrapped around my forearm, but she’s frozen in her spot. Slowly, I remove them, one by one.

“I never figured out why your son wanted to kill me or who sent him there. With Amber terrorizing the city and so many other things going on, it got pushed to the side after his terrible accident.” I accentuate the last word. “But it makes me wonder. What do you know, Mrs. Stein? Do you know why he was sent to kill me? Who would help him find a place inside the House of Night to act in a direct violation of the fealty he’d just given his King? Do you know whose dirty work he was doing?”

Her gaze locks somewhere over my head, her mouth frozen in a frown. The only indication that she’s heard me is a small shake of her head.

“So that’s the truth. The accident that took Armand’s life kept him from whatever consequences would have befallen him when the King found out he raped me and defied his orders.” I take a step around her. “If you ask me, I think he came out ahead.”

A shadow moves in the doorway, and Lavinia pops her head in.

“There you are,” she says, her sharp gaze tracking Trudie. “Everything okay?”

“Yep.” I move toward her, leaving Trudie in the waiting room.

We move around the corner, but Lavinia pauses in the hallway until the front door opens and Trudie leaves.

“What the hell was that about?” she asks.

I glance back toward the waiting room, but the door is already closed behind her. “Secrets.”

Lavinia’s eyebrow lifts. “That sounds ominous.”

“Maybe.” I look down at the gift bags in my hands. “She wanted to know my secrets, but I get the feeling that woman has many of her own and she’ll do anything she can to keep them.”

She studies me for a beat, then looks toward the front door.

Because for the first time, I wonder if Trudie wasn’t really looking for answers about what happened to her son. Maybe she was checking to see how much I know.

The thought follows me as I turn toward the laughter and music coming from the back of the spa and I decide to push it aside. Today is supposed to be about babies, champagne, and celebrating my friends.

Whatever secrets Trudie Stein is carrying can wait.

For now.

Timothy

“You can set your own schedule, but nights and weekends are when we’re the busiest. I block off Friday, though—for the Fury.”

DK nods as he walks around the unfinished workstation, taking in the space Remy has been showing him. He’s quiet, but the wheels are turning, like he’s mentally rearranging everything to suit his own needs. He runs his hand along the edge of the counter, studies the placement of the chair, then looks toward the wall where Remy has apparently decided he’ll eventually hang some of his equipment.

“You’re responsible for your own instruments⁠—”

DK waves him off before Remy can finish. “Not a problem.”

“I figured. We all have our preferred tools.” Remy spins the marker between his fingers, his eyebrow lifting as he looks between DK and the workstation. “Anyway, what do you think?”

When DK told us Remy had asked him to come down to the shop, none of us knew why. It’s been a month since Amber was arrested, and slowly, almost imperceptibly, things have started to settle back into something resembling normal. I’m not sure any of us will ever have the luxury of pretending our lives are actually normal again, but after everything that happened, I’ll take whatever version of ordinary we can get.

Although standing in my estranged son’s tattoo parlor is a new kind of ordinary for sure.

“So let me get this straight?” DK asks. “You’re offering me space to work at Royal Ink?”

Remy crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the counter. “You’re the best piercer in the city, and I want to expand what I offer to my clients. I’ve got the space, you’ve got the skill, and I think it makes sense.” He shrugs, as if the decision is obvious. “So yeah.”