When it came to family, nothing was off-limits.

Winter knew this firsthand.

She’d seen what people, even the most ordinary of people, were willing to do when it came to protecting those they loved.

Mercenaries, on the other hand … there was no line they wouldn’t cross, no person they wouldn’t kill. No matter who stood in their way.

That was how she knew the moment Mariya got that phone call and went all weird on her that shit was about to go down that she couldn’t stop.

Her eyes were too wide, that stunned expression leaving Winter with little doubt what Feliks had said on the other end.

“Was that him?” she asked, her voice low and concerned.

“He has my sister,” Mariya whispered, sounding every bit as lost as she looked.

“Then we’ll call Tăcut and the others.” They could handle this, she was sure of it, but where there had been uncertainty in Mariya’s face, there was now a steely determination. “Let me tell you, I’ve seen this movie, and every time, I always call the girl who thinks it’s okay to run off to save the day a fucking idiot.”

And worse, she knew neither she nor Mariya had the skills to get her sister back on their own.

Maybe if Calavera was here …

But even she hadn’t been able to escape from her kidnapper when she was taken, and she was trained in such things.

Which reminded her. “That kind of crazy doesn’t just stop either. As soon as he sees you, he might kill her anyway.”

And once she was dead, there was no telling what he would do to Mariya.

Thinking she saw the other girl nod, Winter blew out a breath. “So we’ll wait for Tăcut and the others. They’ll know what to do.”

They could go in, do what they did best, and everything would be fine.

Mariya disappeared around the corner, leaving Winter to collapse back onto the couch, dropping her face into her hands.

Before, it would have been moments like these that had her reaching out to Syn, seeking strength in his words. He was always very good at that—talking her down.

But this time, she didn’t want to talk to him.

She wanted Răzvan.

In his own way, he’d know exactly what to say and do.

But no matter how shitty she might have felt that the Russian they were up against had a hostage, Mariya was probably feeling worse.

Maybe it was her turn to talk someone down.

“Mariya!” she called, climbing to her feet and going in search of her.

She found Fang’s room easily—the only problem was that Mariya wasn’t in it.

But the window leading out to the fire escape was open, the slight breeze ruffling the curtains.

Fuck.

It was utterly stupid—she knew with all the conviction in the world that Mariya had gone, but she couldn’t help running over to glance out, hoping at the very least that she was still close and she had a chance to catch her.

If only so she could go with her.

Skills or not, two was always better than one.

But there was no sign of her anywhere.

Fang was going to kill her.

“Shit.”

Dashing back out, she ran to her laptop, opening up the tracking software and plugging in Mariya’s phone number.

Before it could finish running the search, however, the gate opened, and Răzvan and his brothers walked in.

Fang’s gaze shot to her, but instead of anger, he just looked … lost.

“I’m so sorry!” Winter said in a rush, feeling compelled to explain. “I didn’t think she would really leave. I would have stopped her, I swear.”

Fang didn’t seem to be listening, but Răzvan came to her, shaking his head, his face soft and open.

This wasn’t her fault, he was saying.

But it felt like it.

Seeing Fang in his current state made her wish she had done more—done better.

—Take a breath.—

She couldn’t.

It felt like her mind was running a mile a minute, and she couldn’t focus.

Răzvan cupped her cheek, forcing her attention on him. —A breath.—

She sucked in a noisy breath, filling her lungs as much as she could before blowing it out again.

—Another.—

She did as she was told, taking a breath every time he told her to until she was minutely calmer.

That was all she needed.

Back at her laptop, the search finally finished just as Fang came back into the room.

“I’ve already tried tracking her phone, but it’s probably destroyed because I can’t even turn it on from here.” She glanced up at him. “He took her sister.”

Fang nodded. “How long since she left?”

“I’m assuming she called you? I’ll say around whatever time that was. I didn’t realize she was gone until she didn’t come back after a while,” she added quickly. “One other thing. He said she had an hour to get there.”

Fang scrubbed a hand down his face. “How quickly can you find someone?”

“Give me a name.”

She only needed a place to start, and she could find their ancestors.

“Akim. I don’t know his last name, but he’s part of the Bratva.”

That was all she needed.

A little bit of cross-referencing with the information she already knew.

Checking local databases.

Easy.

She rattled off his address once she had it, and Fang instructed both Invictus and Thanatos to find him.

But that was only the first step.

They still needed to actually find Feliks.

—Don’t worry.— Răzvan signed to Fang, who let out a bitter laugh and raked his fingers through his hair.

“I can’t help but fucking worry.”

She hated the look on his face—an expression she was seeing for the second time.

“We haven’t had enough time,” he finished in a whisper, the words more for himself than anyone.

Răzvan didn’t waver. —The living aren’t done with her yet. We’ll get her back.—

Fear was a state of mind.

An emotion that manifested itself when a rush of adrenaline hit. No matter what, Winter could overcome this.

How many times had she’d sat just the way she was now and tracked someone down with little to go on?

How many times had she put limitations on herself and bested them?

This was no different, she tried to tell herself.

But it was different.

This was someone she might not have known well, but she cared about Mariya, and more, Fang cared about her.

She wouldn’t be the reason he lost someone else.

“I got this,” she murmured to herself, fingers flying over the keys as she dug into every aspect of Mariya’s husband’s—soon to be ex-husband’s—life.

There was nothing she couldn’t get her hands on and hadn’t already.

It was just a matter of isolating where he might have taken her.

Time was a factor in this, and unlike her usual jobs, she only had one chance to get it right.

So engrossed in what she was doing, Winter didn’t notice when Răzvan was suddenly behind her, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder.

She didn’t have to look at him to know his expression wasn’t reflecting pity but rather encouragement. He believed she could do this.

He believed in her.

She couldn’t let him down.

Almost.

She almost had—

“Oh, shit,” she muttered to herself before looking over at Fang. “I think I know where they are, and the answer is pretty obvious.”

The answer had been staring her right in the face this whole time.

“Their mansion—or his mansion. Whatever. They’re there. I guarantee it.”

Fang turned for the door, hurrying out with Thanatos and Invictus behind him.

Răzvan, on the other hand, snatched her to him with two powerful hands and kissed the shit out of her.

A breathless laugh escaped her. “You’re welcome. Go kick ass.”

In seconds, he was out the door too.

Watching him go, Winter collapsed on the couch with a sigh.

Now, it was just a matter of time before they were back.

* * *

They were gone for so long, she was afraid something had gone terribly wrong, but as the elevator sounded once more, she was standing in front of it before it could even stop, her heart racing.

A sigh of relief left her the moment Răzvan walked into the loft, followed by Thanatos and Invictus, but when they were the only three to enter, she frowned.

“Where’s Mariya and Fang?”

“Working out their issues,” Thanatos supplied, turning his mask over in his hands as he touched her shoulder affectionately before slipping past her.

“Then everything went okay? Everyone’s fine?” she asked Răzvan next, searching his face for any sign that something had gone wrong.

But he merely nodded and kissed her forehead. —It’s all good.—

He took her hand in his, walking her back to his bedroom where he pulled her in and shut the door. For a second, she wondered whether he needed to talk to her about something, but then he gave her a look.

A look that melted her insides and made her hyper aware of his presence.

It was the adrenaline, she thought as she watched him strip out of his gear, tossing it aside with little care. He was wired, but she knew one way to bring him down.

When he turned back to face her, she didn’t hesitate in running her fingers over the hem of her shirt, making sure she had his attention before tugging it up and off before she did the same to her jeans.

And when his tongue swiped out over his bottom lip, she took a couple of steps toward him then slowly kneeled.

His eyes told the story his hands didn’t—that he liked the sight of her on her knees in front of him.

It was enthralling, seeing how much he wanted her. Not just the lust in his gaze, but the thick outline of his cock through the material of his jeans.

If it were possible, he’d probably rip right through that denim.

Winter didn’t take her eyes from him, not when she got his jeans undone, and not even when she shoved his boxer briefs down muscular thighs until she had his length in her hands.

Velvety soft and hard, he was practically throbbing in her palms.

She’d never thought she would feel anything doing this. He wasn’t touching her or whispering dirty things in her ear. But the obvious restraint he was under made her breath catch.

The way his body had gone taut as she stroked him slowly, trying to get a feel for what he liked.

The way his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as if he was resisting the urge to bury his fingers in her hair.

“I’m not a damsel, Răzvan,” she said softly, hardly recognizing her own voice. “You don’t have to be gentle with me.”

His eyes closed for a moment as a breath left him, but when he opened them back, his pupils had slowly eaten away at the blue.

Those words seemed to be the only permission he needed.

Finally, he lifted a hand, trailing his fingers along her cheek until he reached her mouth where he pressed the pad of his thumb against her lips in a silent request.

She didn’t hesitate, happily and easily sucking his thumb into her mouth.

She wanted it—wanted him.

Very slowly, he drew his thumb from her mouth, his hands moving as he signed.

—Open your mouth.—

She did as she was told, ready and eager for him to continue.

Rapt, she watched as he fisted his cock, stroking once, twice, but before he ordered her to do it, she had the length of him in her mouth.

A harsh breath left him, the sound sending a bolt of pleasure through her, but she was thinking less about herself and more about him.

She wanted to see that careful control snap.

Even the last time they were like this, she thought he was being careful with her, but now she wanted everything he had to give.

Wrapping her fingers around the base of his cock, she squeezed just enough to elicit a reaction out of him, and then she felt his fingers knot in her hair.

With every bob of her head, the tension in his body ratcheted up another degree.

The throb between her legs only grew worse when she felt his hand tighten in her hair, guiding her movements and forcing her to suck him the way he liked.

The rougher he got with her, the sloppier she got on his cock until she was too far gone to care what she must have looked like.

And just when she was sure he would come like this, he pulled out of her mouth and yanked her from the floor, practically throwing her onto the bed.

When his thumbs slipped beneath her panties, she lifted and helped him pull them off.

She could only manage a startled laugh before he had her ass in the air and her front pressed to his bed with a hand at the nape of her neck.

This was what she wanted, the way he seemed to almost have lost himself as he pressed the head of his cock against her entrance and shoved in with little restraint.

She was too wet for there to be any pain—for her to feel anything other than thick, hard length of him filling her so completely.

One jagged thrust turned into two, and before long, she couldn’t count how many times his pelvis slapped against her ass, and her fingers fisted the sheets.

His name fell from her lips in a whisper. A prayer. And God, if he hadn’t covered her mouth at that exact moment, she would have screamed it.

It was too much.

It wasn’t enough.

He might not have been able to warn her with words, but she knew when he’d finally given up on holding himself back—when slick hands grew even tighter on her hips, and God, he was fucking her hard now. And with each snap of his hips, he rubbed over that sensitive spot inside her that made her mind grow blissfully blank.

She didn’t think it was possible to come like this, but as she felt it consuming her, she couldn’t even form words to explain how good he felt fucking her.

How she’d never felt anything like this before.

That she was definitely going to—and before the thought could even finish, her orgasm was there, sudden and all-consuming, robbing her of breath.

And just like that, she felt him swell inside her, impossibly large before he was coming too, his thrusts almost brutal as he emptied himself into her.

Then there was nothing but the sound of their frantic breaths until she said, “I think I’m keeping you, Răz.”

* * *

Something was wrong, but for the life of her, Winter couldn’t figure out what it was.

She had only been back in the city for a few hours—after an assignment given to her by The Kingmaker called for travel—pathetically waiting for the moment when she heard from Răzvan after he arrived back from whatever mystery location Nix had sent them off to.

The uneasy feeling just continued to swarm inside her until she pulled out her phone and realized why she was so antsy.

Ollie had never responded to her text.

Since he usually kept his phone glued to his hand—and when he didn’t, he had his text messages synced to his laptop—she was used to his quick responses, but it had been more than a couple of hours since she’d sent him a message.

Yet nothing.

When she tried Nicole and didn’t get a response either, she sat up a little straighter.

Maybe she was overreacting after everything that had happened in Chicago with the Russians, but she wasn’t liking that neither were responding.

This time when she called Tessa, her heart beat just a little faster.

But the longer it rang, the more confused she felt.

Pocketing her phone, she then pulled on her boots and grabbed her jacket before heading out the door.

It took a few minutes to hail a cab, but once she was in the back of it and pulling out into the late day showers, she had her phone in her hand again and dialed Ollie.

“It’s Winter, call me.”

She couldn’t say more than that even if she wanted to.

They had all agreed to keep their relationships as private as possible, and it had already been a stretch to even exchange phone numbers.

Thankfully, the ride over to his apartment wasn’t a long one, fifteen minutes at most.

She tipped the driver and hustled out, jogging up the two flights of stairs until she reached his door.

Her gaze scanned the potted plants sitting on either side of the welcome rug, remembering him once telling her that he kept his spare key in one of them.

Seconds later, she was strolling into his apartment, wrinkling her nose at the smell of old pizza and stale beer.

But despite the odor, his apartment looked as it always did—four steps away from utter filth.

The coffee table was stacked high with pizza boxes, his clothes were strewn all over the floor, so no matter where she stepped, she had yet to actually touch the floor.

“Ollie?” she called, not expecting him to answer, though she’d tried anyway.

Besides, he was usually wearing headphones, so he probably wouldn’t have heard her anyway.

Winter was starting to think he was just out doing his own thing and just hadn’t gotten back to her yet when she rounded the corner and found his bedroom.

Seeing it made her freeze where she stood.

Ollie had his own setup with dual modems and as many screens, but where the cords wound around the floor and led up to the back of the electronics, had been severed.

Shit.

She had seen enough movies where the girl stuck around, tried to investigate further—as if the fucking trashed apartment was really going to provide answers—but she refused to be one of them.

Instead, she backed out the way she came, careful not to disturb things further.

If something was wrong with Ollie, she couldn’t do anything from here, and there was a chance whoever had done this would come back to his place, so instead of waiting for that possibility, the best course of action was to get to her own place and call Răzvan from there.

Clutching her phone in her hand, Winter hurried out of the apartment and out of the building, starting down the street as she searched for a cab to flag down.

She had nearly reached the end of the block when arms banded around her from behind, shocking her enough to make her drop her phone and a scream to rip free from her throat.

But as a prick in her neck made her breath hiccup, very soon, all the fight drained out of her as her vision went dark.