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“Do what?”

“You know what,” I say gently. “Why did you cut him off? What was he about to say?”

Damon sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Nothing worth repeating, Doll Baby. He was just trying to hurt you.”

“I’ve been hurt before, Damon. And I survived. Every time,” I remind him. “Whatever he was going to say wasn’t going to break me.”

It’s the way he hesitates, teeth pulling at the silver loop in his lip, that sends a small flicker of anxiety blooming in my belly. How could it possibly be worse than everything we’ve already been through?

“It’s bullshit, Ari. There’s no proof that what he said is true. In fact, there’s evidence to the opposite. But once this is in your head, there’s no getting it out⁠—”

“Tell me.”

His hand wraps around mine, warm and steady. “You sure?” he asks, giving me one last out.

“Tell me.”

He sighs, fingers tightening. “When Hunter was in the tunnel with Billy, right before he killed him, Billy made one last ditch effort to cause chaos.”

My pulse thrums. “What did he say?”

Damon’s jaw tenses, his eyes focused out the window instead of on me. “He said that when you were held captive…” he grimaces, “... he said he took your virginity. To make sure you weren’t pure for the King.” He swallows hard. “It’s bullshit, baby. He was just trying to cause doubt between us. He knew he was a dead man and he was scrambling.”

Listening to him is like hearing a story about someone else. It feels foreign. Unreal. I search my body for any flicker of memory, any sense of recognition, but the first man I truly remember entering me was my husband on our wedding night.

Still, I wait for the panic. The rush of blood in my ears. The wave that usually crashes over me when old trauma tries to surface. Periwinkle.

It doesn’t come. My heart stays steady. My mind remains solid.

“Ari?” Damon asks softly, his thumb running over my knuckles.

“Yeah?” I blink back into focus.

“I’m sorry. Even though I don’t believe it, I’m sorry your life and body are leverage for our enemies.”

I lean my head against his shoulder, breathing in his warm scent–using it to steady me.

“It’s not surprising,” I look down at his hand, at the ring that looks like it was made to be there. “Traitors will try to keep causing problems long after they’re gone. But they won’t win. Not when we’re together. Not when we’re this strong.”

Damon presses a kiss to the top of my head and holds me tighter as we wait for Hunter to return with the food. I know who I belong to. I know who owns me and it’s not the men hiding behind masks and lurking in the dark. It’s the ones that take care of me and claim me in the daylight.

I step outside, onto the small walkway that leads from the House of Night to the backyard. It’s cold, but the chill feels good against my overheated skin. A million stars glitter overhead, so many more than I was used to in town at Strong Manor.

I find Hunter by the glowing red tip of his cigarette, standing in the grass while Ares explores the darkness. When I sit on the low stone wall beside him, he offers the cigarette without a word. I take a small, slow drag, letting the smoke fill my lungs.

Dropping my head back, I stare upward. “There’s something settling about them.”

He glances at my face, then follows my gaze. “The stars?”

“Yes. They’re constant, you know? No matter where you are–no matter who you are– they’re the same. They don’t know your thoughts or feelings.”

Or the darkness that I can’t seem to banish.

He takes the cigarette back from me and inhales deeply, but his eyes never leave my face. Tonight left me raw and exposed. Between Mateo’s mind games, Damon’s ruthless decisiveness, and the way he’d taken me afterwards on that table… I feel alive, but now there’s an itchiness crawling under my skin that I can’t reconcile.

“I was so close to killing him,” I admit quietly. “It was like Armand all over again.”

“And that upsets you?” Hunter asks, handing the cigarette back.