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The caller lets out a bitter laugh. “If he’s been lying about that for years, why the hell should we believe anything coming out of BRN now?”

I rub my jaw. “Fair question. But the truth doesn’t care about your trust issues. It’s still the truth.”

I disconnect the call before he can keep going. It’s not the first one tonight, and it won’t be the last. This is exactly why I took a few weeks off the air. The rumors were always going to explode.

The next call is already blinking. I answer.

A girl this time, voice young and sharp. “I saw Damon Kemp walking around campus with the ring on. So he’s the new King? Does that mean he killed Maddox?”

I hang up immediately.

“Oh look,” I say into the mic, voice dripping with sarcasm, “It’s time for Royal Noir and me to wind down for another day.” I queue the last song and let the intro build. I consider saying something poignant. Something that defends my frat and leadership, but I know it’ll just come across as defensive and probably get me in more heat. So, I go with tradition, closing the show like I always do, “As always and forever, wake up, Forsyth. Wake up, and smell that sweet decay.”

I turn the volume up as the track kicks in, the heavy bass vibrating through the studio speakers.

The door behind me creaks open. I assume it’s Everly coming in early for her slot.

It’s not.

Arianette stands in the doorway, the hallway light outlining her figure. She’s in a tight black cardigan and a plaid skirt. Fishnets cover her legs.

“Hey,” I say, straightening in my seat. My eyes dart behind her. “Are you alone?”

“Damon’s outside.”

There’s an awkward distance between us. She lingers just inside the door, and I stay seated at the console, the space suddenly feeling too small and too large at the same time. The last time she was here, we dry-humped like kids. It was hot, but dangerous. Just thinking about it makes my dick press against my zipper.

I clear my throat. “Everything go okay today?”

“Actually, yeah.” Her eyes look a little brighter than they have lately. “I met with Sy and Nick’s mom. She’s a psychotherapist. I didn’t recover any memories, but she did help me with a few things. I was also able to talk to her about something else. About us.”

I wait, pulse kicking up. The song throbs in the background, heavy bass matching the sudden tension I’m feeling.

“She gave me some ideas about how we can work through our problem,” Arianette says softly.

“You mean my problem,” I mutter, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice. I look away, staring at the glowing console instead of her face.

“No,” she says quickly, stepping closer. “This is our problem, Hunter. And the only way we’re going to work through it is together.”

I let out a short, humorless laugh and drag a hand through my hair. “Ari, you don’t get it. You can get hurt. You have been hurt! The last thing I want is to⁠—”

“I do get it,” she interrupts, her voice steady but gentle. “I know you’re scared. But Sarah helped me see that I’ve been waiting for you to figure it out on your own. That’s not fair to either of us. I have a plan. A safe one.”

I finally meet her eyes. There’s determination there, mixed with that softness that always undoes me. “A plan?”

She nods. “Everything will be under control. We won’t be figuring it out alone. Damon will be there. He’ll help set the boundaries and keep things from going too far. You trust him, right?”

My stomach tightens. The idea of Damon being there—watching and directing—should probably piss me off. Instead, it sends a confusing rush of relief through me. If anyone can keep me from losing control, it’s DK. He’s done it before, stepping in after the King had me punish Ari. That night I wanted to keep going–push her further–but he kept me in check.

“You really think that would work?” I ask, voice rough.

“I do.” She reaches out and brushes her fingers lightly over my wrist. “I want all of you, Hunter. Even the rough, intense parts. Especially those. But I need you to trust that we can explore them without anyone getting hurt. I need you to let me in.”

I search her face for any sign of doubt and find none. Just honesty. Want. Hope.

“You promise it’ll be safe?” I ask, feeling the slightest flare of hope despite years of conditioning myself not to trust it.

Arianette steps fully into my space, cupping my jaw with one hand. “I promise.”