“Fine. Fine.” She sinks into her seat.

I refuse to feel bad for snapping at her. Or sharing some lewd thoughts with her. Ella ratted me out. If she’s not interested in my business, she should learn to keep her damn nose out of it.

“Where’s your spare set of keys?” I ask.

“What for?”

“What do you think?” I frown at her obtuseness.

“I can’t lend you my car, Easton. Callum said we’re not allowed to help you.”

For a girl who used to strip for a living to pay for her bills, her straight edges are sharper than flint.

“Ella, now is not the time to remember obedience. We don’t answer to Callum. We Royal kids are our own country. The only people in charge are us and if we stick together, then we’re strong. It’s once we start eating our own that the walls all fall down.”

“Is that what you think?”

“It’s not what I think. It’s the truth.” Has she forgotten her own past? The one where we stood by her, held her up under the Royal name, served as her fucking shields? I’m starting to lose it.

“I don’t know, East. Remember what you said before? About how all you know is tearing stuff down and not building it up? I feel like we’re on the verge of ruin. Like we’re standing on the Cliffs of Insanity and one wrong decision and the cliff will drop away.”

I try to joke because if I don’t, I might bite her head off. “You’re thinking this way because you’re not getting enough dick. I’d offer you mine, but I don’t think Hartley would like it.” If she ever remembers she’s dating me.

“God, Easton, it’s not all about sex, okay? It’s about us as a family. Sebastian’s in a coma. Sawyer’s unraveling each minute that Seb is not awake. Gideon is wrapped up in Savannah and can’t see past her tits while Reed is busy with college. You and me”—she waves a finger between us—“we have to be the adults.”

“Here’s the problem with you, Ella. You don’t get what it means to truly be a Royal. Adulting is for people who don’t have trust funds or five-figure weekly allowances. In order for our great economy to roll along, you and I have to spend that money—that means we go out and pursue fun in all its glorious forms.”

“And how do you propose to do that while Seb is in a coma? Because Callum has thrown all his money at the problem and Seb still isn’t awake. Have you looked at your other brother? He’s like a zombie. A walking coma victim.”

I blow out a long, frustrated stream of air. “You’re a real buzz kill.” My old man took away my pilot’s license last year after a hard bout of drinking. I figured I’d just wait him out. Eventually, he’d cave. He always has in the past. Not this time, though. It’s just gotten worse. “I can’t believe Dad took my truck away.”

I mean, yeah, if I wasn’t drunk, I wouldn’t have confronted Hart’s dad, which means she wouldn’t have driven away upset and Seb’s speeding would’ve been another day on the road. Still, it’s one thing for me to feel guilty and a whole other thing for my dad to be placing the blame on me.

Ella shoots me a sad look. “And the motorcycle. You’re fully grounded now, not just from flying but all forms of motor vehicles. He said Durand will drive you from now on.”

“I’m not even the one who got in the accident. It was Seb.” But I don’t say it with much conviction, because I feel pretty damn guilty.

“And he’s paying for it, isn’t he? Callum doesn’t want to lose another one of his sons.”

“Come on, Ella. You know this is bullshit. I’ll just buy another car. I can easily do that with the money in my bank account.” I’ve got more than one account. There’s a checking account, a savings account, a money market account, a brokerage account, and, obviously, my trust fund. So Dad cut me off from my trust. Big whoop.

Her gaze shifts to stare out the window. Suspicious at her evasion, I pull out my phone and navigate to the bank app. Sure enough, it’s zeroed out. I open my stock app, but I can’t even get into it. The password’s been changed. I check the other apps and those too are locked.

“Motherfucker!” I heave my phone against the dashboard. There’s a sickening crack as it falls to the floor. I pick it up and run my finger over the broken screen. “How’d you find out about this?” I demand, with barely leashed fury.

She still can’t look me in the eye. “Callum texted and asked me to drive you home. He called you a dozen times. He was worried.”

“That asshole lets me drink all the time when I’m at home.”

“Home being the operative word,” she cries. “When you were home, he could monitor you. But, East, sometimes you take it too far. Sawyer shouldn’t be drinking right now, not in the state of mind he’s in. He’s already messed up as it is.”

“Yeah? So why can’t he have a fucking moment’s peace in his head after everything he’s going through?” I shout back. “That’s all we want! For the voices in our heads to shut the fuck up!”

“Reed says—”

My rage hits an incandescent level. “I don’t want to hear what motherfucking Reed has to say.”

My brother and arguably my closest friend are conspiring against me. In my family, I’ve always been the odd kid out. Reed and Gid were the oldest. They were super fucked-up but stuck together, keeping their secrets that nearly got Ella killed and Reed thrown in prison. The twins were nearly one unit. They spoke their own silent language, took all the same classes, swapped clothes, played the same sports, slept with the same girl.