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I straightened, heading for the door. “So you’re welcome. By the time I’m done, you’d have had to throw that thing in the fire anyway.”

I stomped through the manor, passing by Sanders and barking at him to get the guy with my keys.

Winter found out a secret and refused to back down. Less than a month since I returned to Regalia and I found out the kind of secrets the Royals kept in their closets—unpaid labor, massacres, arson. Whatever she discovered, there was no doubt in my mind she had a good reason for refusing to let it stay buried.

“It’s all going to come out, sis. The Royals rule over Regalia ended the day the housekeeper’s daughters came back.”

“A SECRET,” RAFAEL REPEATED.

“Something big. Something important enough that they couldn’t risk it getting out.” I wore a line in the living room carpet, making Cato’s, Rafael’s, Wilder’s, and Lucien’s eyes ping-pong in their heads tracking me. “You should’ve seen that scroll, guys. A million webs connecting all the families of Regalia, and severing one represents millions lost or lives ruined.”

Rafael leaned forward half off the chair. “Do you remember the details? Where everyone is? Who’s connected to who?”

“Not all of them, no.” I threw up my hands. “Not even most of them. There were too many names.”

Lucien snagged my hand as I passed him, enfolding them within his own. “It’s okay, Luna,” Lucien said, thumb caressing my knuckles. “It’s incredible something like that exists. Or disturbing could be a better word—that the Burkhardts have been keeping such a close eye on the Royals.”

“But that would explain a lot,” Rafael said under his breath, eyes glazing at the wall.

I moved in front of him. “What does it explain?”

“It explains what Dad does for the Burkhardts.” Rafael shared a look with his brother. “It’s not about burying political opponents or burying bodies. To know the backroom deals, trades, affairs, and secrets of everyone in Regalia, it takes a full-scale fixer operation bigger than the four of us could put together. And the only man in Regalia with the skills is the man who taught me.”

I fell to my knees before Rafael as that sank in, gripping his thighs. “But you said your dad wasn’t a fixer. He’s a hit man.”

“He is a hit man. He’s ruthless, efficient, and kills for the highest bidder. All qualities that look good on the resume for a spy. Burkhardt hires him to get information, knowing he’ll hand over the deepest secrets without a twinge of conscience. It’s not Dad’s normal gig, but for the right amount of money, he’ll expand his skill set.” His eyes suddenly latched on mine. “Where were we on the list?”

I shook my head. “You weren’t on it. No Dumont, O’Rourke, or Calais.”

They all nodded like this made sense. “Why aren’t your families on the scroll? I get why the Dregs didn’t make the list, but it’s a document of how easily they can control everyone, wouldn’t they want the families from the shady side of the street on it too?”

“I bet they would,” Wilder replied, “but they don’t control a single thing to do with our families, and that’s not going to change.”

“We don’t rent property from the Burkhardts,” Rafael said. “They couldn’t tell you what property we do own. After our home was attacked and Mom was killed, Dad moved us to an unlisted address far enough away that the neighbors wouldn’t see us strolling in and out—though we still went to school.”

“The hospitals my descendants own aren’t exactly listed either,” Lucien admitted. “There isn’t much need for their services in this quaint little town, so they split their time between Boston, Philadelphia, New York, and Washington DC. We own a beach house outside the town limits. I bought it decades ago, thinking this would be a nice place to set up a simple practice.

“I left when people started noticing I wasn’t aging, then returned years ago as my own grandson and enrolled in high school. To live a life like mine, you keep to yourself and don’t make the kind of connections that get you on Burkhardt’s scroll.”

Picking through the bits of his story that could possibly be true, I pieced together that his folks set up underground mafia hospitals where crime was as high. The little slice of the coast they owned was free and clear of the Burkhardts because this was their getaway. It was also a safer place to send their son to school.

“What about you, Wilder?”

“The Burkhardts don’t know a thing about me or my family.” He scoffed. “They don’t even know what last name to write down.”

“Wait. O’Rourke isn’t your last name?”

He flashed me a look like the answer was obvious. Knowing Wilder, it should’ve been obvious to me.

I focused on Rafael. “But this is good. Saylor showed me that scroll thinking it’d intimidate me—prove how many Royals would take my ass down if the Dreg kept fucking with the system, but all she did was prove Winter wasn’t the victim of random bullying. She was targeted because she knew something and the secret had to be about one of those five families, right? As in, she knew something about the Thompkins family, and the other guys came at her worse than everyone else because their families would be hit hardest if the Thompkins went down.”

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