“Admiral? We found her.”

Tristan looked up from the membership roster he was in the process of memorizing. One of England’s—his—security officers stood in the door to his office.

“You found her?”

“Yes, sir. She’s here, in London.”

Sophia put her hand on his shoulder. “That’s not a coincidence.”

“No, it’s not.” Tristan braced his hand on the desk and stood. “Let’s go.”

Percy shouldered past the security officer to block his path. “I’m sorry, Arthur, I can’t let you do that.”

Tristan narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“You’re the admiral.”

“Yes, I am. I’m going.” He may not be a knight any longer, but he’d be damned if he would become some paper-pusher sitting behind the desk, letting others do the dangerous tasks.

Percy sighed. “Would you have let Winston go?”

Tristan grunted. Damn it. Percy was right. He wouldn’t have, but that didn’t mean he’d just idly remain behind. There had to be some way…

“The admiral and I will station at the command center.” Sophia spoke graciously, but there was steel in her voice.

Tristan would have already utterly failed at being the admiral if he hadn’t had Sophia at his side. More than once he’d wondered if their marriage had robbed her of the chance to be the admiral of Rome. She would have been an amazing leader.

“I’ll, uh, let the vice admiral know.” The security officer ducked out of the room.

Percy crossed his arms. “You’re the admiral now.”

“So they keep telling me.”

“You have a vice admiral to handle things like this.”

“And I’m sure Lorelei has it well in hand, but I’m not going to sit behind this desk and wait for a report.” Tristan sympathized with Percy. If he’d been the knight standing by the door, he would be ready to tear his hair out with frustration that the admiral was being so stubborn.

He was still going.

Percy’s gaze flicked briefly to Tristan’s right arm, and he couldn’t hide his wince. Rather than continue arguing, Percy bowed. “Yes, Admiral. Once Lorelei has the plan in place, the knights and I will come and get you and your wife.”

“Good. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Percy shook his head. “Not a few hours.”

“Why not?”

“We’re waiting for Mateo.”

“The head of the Spartan Guard is coming?”

“Yes. He should be here this afternoon. I think the plan is to go in around three A.M.”

Tristan nodded and sat down. “Thank you, Percival.”

Percy snorted. “Oh good. Now I can’t even tell you to fuck off cuz you’re the admiral.”

Tristan grinned. “It’s good to be the king.”

Percy rolled his eyes and walked out.

Mateo finished checking the perimeter of the hotel again. It was his fourth sweep of the place in less than an hour, but he wanted to be sure everything was clear. He hadn’t slept a single night since the fleet admiral’s death. The man had trusted him to protect him, and he’d failed.

Failed to protect Kacper from the poisoning as well as the drone that had fired the death shot. Now if the new British admiral was right, there was a chance he’d even failed in protecting the man from his own wife.

However, Mateo was struggling to believe that. He’d always been very fond of both the fleet admiral’s wives—Greta and Manon. They’d been kind to him, treating him with equal parts respect and motherly love. Mateo had been upset when Manon asked to leave, but he had understood in a way. It had always been obvious that Greta and Kacper were the true couple, completely devoted and in love. Manon, though fond of her spouses, had always seemed a bit like someone looking in from the outside.

If she was innocent, he was going to prove it.

If she was guilty…well…

He wasn’t going to screw this up. His career—hell, his entire reputation—was on the line. Tonight, he’d make amends for everything he’d done wrong, prove to the admirals—and to himself—that Kacper hadn’t been a fool to name him Captain of the Guard.

When he had discovered Manon was staying in London, he realized Tristan—actually, he was Arthur now—had been right to question him about her. To demand answers about her whereabouts.

Mateo had prided himself on his loyalty to his fleet admiral, his commander. He’d been wrong to keep Manon’s departure a secret from the other admirals. He should have considered her a suspect, but his fondness for her had blinded him, caused him to lose focus.

Derrick Frederick, a senior member of the Spartan Guard, approached him. “She’s on the seventh floor, sir. Checked in under the name Eklund.”

“That’s her mother’s maiden name.” Mateo sighed. Why would she use a different name if she wasn’t up to trouble? He closed his eyes, silently praying that everyone was wrong. There was always a chance that this Domino was holding her captive, coercing her in some way. Mateo wasn’t going to jump to any conclusions until he had all the facts.

“The men are in place,” Lorelei Madden said, opening the side panel of the van parked across the street as he approached. She’d put on a Kevlar vest beneath her fleece jacket. Though she was a slight woman, Lorelei possessed a “don’t fuck with me” look that would hold even the toughest bastards at bay.

“You got the body camera on?” she asked.

He nodded.

Lorelei glanced back at the man behind her. “You getting it?”

The man cleared his throat, his face red. “Um…yeah.”

Lorelei caught a glimpse of the screen over his shoulder and rolled her eyes. Mateo followed her line of vision and shifted his upper body to the right, taking Lorelei’s breasts off camera as Arthur chuckled.

“Idiots,” she muttered under her breath.

Mateo started to smile, but Lorelei narrowed her eyes angrily. “Do it. Now.”

“Good luck,” Arthur’s wife, Sophia, said to their retreating backs.

Mateo, Derrick, and one of the knights of the British territory, a man named Percy, took the elevator to the seventh floor while Lorelei remained in the van, overseeing the operation with the admiral and his wife. Mateo hadn’t been surprised to discover the newly appointed British admiral in the van. Arthur might now rule the territory, but once a knight, always a knight, he figured.

Once they arrived at the room, Derrick took up position to the right of the door, Mateo the left. They remained close to the wall, out of immediate sight. The plan was for Percy to knock. Manon wouldn’t recognize him, which would give them the element of surprise. If she peered through the peephole and spotted either Mateo or Derrick, there was a good chance she wouldn’t answer or—God forbid—attack if she really was guilty.

Percy knocked, and Manon’s voice sounded from behind the door.

“Forget your key, my love?” she cooed, opening the door without hesitation.

Mateo took one look at her revealing robe, her bedroom eyes, and her kiss-swollen lips, and recognized the truth.

She’d done it.

She’d killed the fleet admiral. Killed her husband.

Tristan hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to watch from the sidelines. He’d never thought of how Lorelei must feel, sending the knights and security officers out on missions while she was stuck behind a desk, waiting for reports. He was quite literally on the edge of his seat, watching the video feed from Mateo’s body camera. Lorelei was on his left, while Sophia sat on his right, each of them perched on small folding stools, facing the wall of the van where a high-tech display was set up. The van and all the tech and toys inside it were part of the security minister’s arsenal.

The knights got swords while these guys were outfitted by Q. Unfair.

You’re the admiral, you could do something about that.

That was an unsettling thought, and not something he should be thinking about right now, so Tristan pushed it aside.

Sophia sat beside him, one hand on his shoulder. In her other hand she held her phone, and she was texting James updates. She was keeping them vague on the off chance they were intercepted.

Adrenaline surged through his bloodstream as he watched Mateo, a Spartan Guard named Derrick, and Percy position themselves in front of a hotel room door. The camera showed Percy, who was standing casually in front of the door, his body language relaxed.

A vivid memory of Gawain’s body jerking as he was shot flashed through Tristan’s head. Tristan gritted his teeth so hard they ached.

Sophia murmured something in Italian, her gaze also riveted on the screen. Only Lorelei looked like she wasn’t about to have a heart attack from the tension. She was used to it.

The door opened, and he could hear a woman’s voice. The next moment, Mateo was rushing into the room, the camera jiggling wildly. Mateo grabbed her forearms, forcing her back into the room.

Manon wore a short, silky robe that slid open to reveal a silky negligee.

“Mateo?” Her voice wavered a little bit. “What are you doing here?”

“I think you know why I’m here.”

“What’s wrong? Let go of me. You’re hurting me!”

“Ma’am, please have a seat.” Percy had pulled the chair away from the desk, placing it in the center of the large room.

“Do you know who I am?” Manon snapped at Percy.

Percy didn’t reply.

“Sit down, Manon. Please.” Mateo, still holding her by the forearms, urged her to back up.

When her knees hit the chair, she sat. “What is going on?”

The video jiggled as Mateo crouched by the arms of the chair and gently slipped a zip tie around her wrist, binding it to the arm of the chair. Manon jerked her arm in shock.

“Ouch! Mateo, what do you think you’re doing? Let me go. Immediately!”

“Kacper is dead.”

For a moment, Manon’s face was blank, then it crumpled up in a pantomime of grief. “Oh no, my poor Kacper.”

“She’s lying,” Lorelei said.

“Yes, she is,” Sophia agreed.

Tristan just nodded.

It seemed no one in the room was fooled either, because Derrick caught Manon’s free arm and held it down while Mateo slipped the other zip tie on.

“Derrick? You’re letting him do this?” Manon shook her head, as if disappointed.

Like Greta, she had aged well, but she was still old enough that Tristan felt uncomfortable seeing her in restraints. His common sense—which told him she was dangerous—was warring with an instinct that said she was too old, and too female, to be a threat. He looked sideways first at Lorelei, and then at Sophia.

He sure as shit wasn’t going to say that out loud. The women on either side of him were seriously dangerous.

“Why?” Mateo asked. “Why did you kill him?”

“Kill Kacper? You think he was murdered?”

That might have made Tristan pause, might have made him doubt his conclusion, if it wasn’t for her eyes. There was no emotion in them. They were a pretty warm brown in color, but there was no confusion or grief in her gaze.

“I’m going up.” Lorelei reached for the door.

“I’m coming,” Tristan said immediately.

“No, Arthur, you’re the admiral. We can’t risk losing you.”

Tristan ground his teeth. “Then don’t let anyone shoot me.”

“Jesus H. I hate men,” Lorelei breathed. “Thank the Lord I have two wives. Fine. At least wait for my all clear. I’m going to send some additional personnel in to secure the floor.”

Tristan settled back into his chair. His vice admiral slid out of the van while muttering.

Less than five minutes later, the radio on the small wall-mounted tech display squawked to life. “Clear. Seventh floor.”

Lorelei ordered the security on the seventh floor to report to the lobby. “I want this place surrounded. Eyes on every entrance.”

“Should we detain anyone?” one of the security guards asked.

“No,” Lorelei said and Tristan could hear the tension in her tone. She wasn’t happy with what he was planning to do. “It’s a public place. We can’t do that without drawing attention to ourselves. Report in if you see anyone suspicious.”

Sophia opened the van door for them, and she and Tristan climbed out, hurrying across the street and into the hotel.

Tristan nodded to each man and woman he passed in the hotel lobby. Sophia, directly behind him, murmured things like “good job” and “well done.” Even if he hadn’t been able to hear her, he would have known she was behind him from the way too many men’s gazes seemed riveted on something at his back.

Back off fuckers, she’s mine.

Well, mine and James’s.

When they reached the seventh floor, the hotel room door was open. Tristan paused just outside to center himself and release some of his anger. Anger wouldn’t help the situation. It rarely helped any situation.

They walked in and Mateo frowned. “Admiral, you shouldn’t be here.”

Manon met his gaze. Tristan had been right—there was no emotion in her eyes.

“Admiral?” she asked. “He isn’t one of the admirals.”

“He’s the admiral of Britain.”

A corner of Manon’s mouth twitched…as if she’d been about to smile.

Tristan clenched his hand into a fist.

“What happened to Winston?” Manon asked conversationally. “I do hope he’s okay.”

“Shut up, you dumb bitch,” Lorelei snapped.

Everyone looked at her in mild surprise. There were lines of grief etched into her face. She’d been close to the previous admiral. Tristan needed to remember that.

“Don’t speak to me that way.”

“I’ll speak to you however I want.”

Manon straightened her shoulders. “I am—”

“You’re the woman who betrayed her vows,” Tristan cut in. His words fell like stones into a pond, sending out ripples that left silence in their wake.

“You betrayed your vows to your trinity. You betrayed your vows to our society.”

Manon’s lips pulled back from her teeth. “A vow made under duress means nothing.”

“Under duress?” Mateo asked.

Manon looked around the room, seeming to consider everyone there.

“You’re not getting out of this,” Lorelei told her.

For the first time, real emotion showed on her face—hatred. “Tell me, did he suffer when he died? I hope he did.”

Sophia’s fingers laced through Tristan’s and she squeezed his hand.

“I hope he and Greta suffered.”

“They were your trinity.” There were tears in Sophia’s voice.

“I didn’t choose them. I was stuck with them on that horrible little island. I was meant for more.”

“You were the wife of the fleet admiral.” Percy looked scandalized.

“So what? What did that get me?” The narcissism was rolling off her in waves.

“You killed them because you were bored?” Sophia’s voice rang with shock.

“No, stupid girl. I left them because I was bored. I killed them because… Well, if I told you that, it would ruin the surprise.”

Mateo had taken up position by the door, not forgetting Manon’s initial comment. She’d been waiting for her lover. The man could return at any moment, which only made the fact the goddamn British admiral was in the room all the more dangerous.

Every word Manon spoke sent waves of sickness through him. She’d killed Kacper and wanted to cause Greta pain. Mateo would never forgive himself for trusting her, for believing every lie she’d ever fed him.

Because it had all been lies.

Before he could process that, he heard a voice through his earpiece. One of the security officers down in the lobby reported that a man had just entered the elevator. Mateo heard a ping that indicated the elevator had stopped on this floor.

Shit. If Manon’s lover returned, he needed to find a way to capture the man, while keeping the freaking heads of the British territory safe. Even if Arthur wasn’t used to his new position and his importance to the society, Lorelei should have known. Should have insisted the admiral remain in the van.

The door was closed, so Mateo kept his eye pressed to the peephole. He’d pulled his compact Taurus model 85 polymer-frame revolver from the back waistband of his jeans, the safety off, his finger on the trigger.

His fear became a reality when a young man stopped right outside the room, his hands rifling through his pockets in search of the keycard.

Mateo gestured for everyone else in the room to move away from view of the door with a quick wave of his gun.

Percy quickly stepped in front of the admiral, shoving him to a corner of the room where Mateo could no longer see him. The admiral’s wife stayed beside Arthur.

The man slid the keycard into the door, but before he could open it, Mateo jerked hard, pulling the man off balance.

Mateo pressed a gun to the man’s head as he shoved him farther into the room, the hotel door closing behind them.

The man tried to jerk away from Mateo’s grip, but Derrick was there, reaching out. No one wanted to pull a trigger. They needed this man alive, needed to question him.

Mateo released the man briefly to secure his gun, tucking it away as Derrick—a brute in his own right—wrestled the stranger to the ground. The battle was over quickly, and the fight seemed to leave the man when he realized a two-ton wrecking ball wouldn’t dislodge the knee Derrick had in his back.

“Check him for weapons,” Lorelei demanded.

The man raised his head, his eyes taking in everything in the room. His perusal stopped on Manon.

“Are you okay, my sparrow?” he asked.

For the second time, Mateo saw genuine emotion on the cold woman’s face. Her eyes softened, glistening with tears.

Tristan went to shove Percy out of the way, and the stump of his right arm jerked inside the sling. He winced and growled, “Move, Percy.”

Percy looked over his shoulder then stepped to the side. Percy didn’t have his sword—that would have been a dead giveaway as to what, if not who he was—but he looked ready to do some serious damage even without a weapon.

Tristan wanted an unobstructed view of what was happening. Derrick had the newcomer facedown on the ground, hands held behind him with zip ties. Manon was now jerking against her own restraints, tears streaming down her face.

When no one spoke, Tristan realized he was the highest-ranking person in the room.

Huh.

He stepped forward, and Percy fell into place slightly behind him and to his right. Sophia was on his left.

“Who are you?” he asked.

The man on the floor raised his head and glared. Mateo grabbed him by the hair, pulling his head back. “Answer the admiral’s question.”

“Scout Sniper. Primary 0317.”

“The accent. He’s American.” Lorelei tipped her head to the side and examined him the way other people looked at a car they were going to purchase. “This must be the owner of that very nice gun.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “I’m going to get my gun back.”

“Oh, I’m keeping the gun,” Lorelei assured him.

“Who are you?” Tristan asked him again.

He glared.

Sophia walked over, crouched beside him, and reached under the collar of his shirt. She pulled out a pair of dog tags.

“His name is Griffin R. Rutherford. He has O positive blood and is a Baptist.” She rose, all graceful limbs and dark hair, the chain of the man’s dog tags hanging from one finger.

Tristan grinned at his wife. Derrick and Mateo had the grace to look chagrined.

“Griffin, you opened fire on a roomful of people. You killed some. You shot off my arm. Now, I took a vow, as a knight. That vow will prevent me from torturing you for information, but I think Mateo would be happy to start cutting pieces off until you talk.”

“I’ll do it,” Lorelei volunteered.

“So will I,” Sophia said.

“Look at that, plenty of people willing to torture you.”

“Don’t tell them anything,” Manon snarled at her young lover.

“I won’t,” Griffin assured her.

“Stand him up so I can see him,” Tristan ordered.

Derrick eased away from him, then grabbed him under the arms and hauled him up.

“Check his hands. Is he wearing a ring?”

Mateo slid around behind him. “No.”

“Why a ring?” Percy asked quietly.

“Members of the Trinity Masters wear rings,” he replied in an equally quiet voice.

“So they can be easily identified? Bloody idiots.” Percy shook his head in disgust.

Tristan shifted his attention back to Griffin. “Are you a member of the Trinity Masters?”

Griffin looked blank, then narrowed his eyes. “Yes, I am.”

“He’s not.” Lorelei was watching him closely.

Tristan sent up a small prayer of thanks for that before moving on to his next question. “What do you know about the Domino?”

That got a reaction from both of them. Manon laughed softly, but the man went eerily still, emotionless.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low. “The Domino? Surely you’re joking. He’s not real.”

“Why leave us the clues in Italy?” Sophia asked. “Why tell us what you were going to do?”

Manon’s gaze flicked to Sophia, then around the room. She swallowed heavily, confusion creasing her forehead.

“Ah, yes, yes, yes,” Sophia murmured. “You didn’t know. Who betrayed you, Manon?” Sophia patted Griffin’s cheek. It wasn’t a gentle pat. “Was it your young lover?”

“I would never betray you,” Griffin assured Manon.

Manon licked her lips like a toad. “Fine. I didn’t expect it to end this way, but you’re right. I am the Domino. I was trapped by the Masters’ Admiralty. Made a slave. I will see this society on its knees, and I will—”

Griffin jerked back, away from Sophia, Mateo, and Derrick. He bent at the waist, lifted his arms, stretching them toward the ceiling, and then jerked them down.

The zip tie holding his wrists together snapped.

He took advantage of everyone’s shock and reached for Sophia.

She didn’t freeze, didn’t play the submissive captive. Even as Tristan, Percy, Mateo, and Lorelei all reached for her, she stepped closer to Griffin, raising her knee to connect with his balls.

He twisted at the last moment and shoved her back. Sophia hit Mateo, who caught her, taking a step back to absorb the impact.

Derrick had his gun in hand, and was raising it toward Griffin’s head when the young sniper stepped into his stance and grabbed his wrist. Using what looked like a martial-arts move, Griffin disarmed Derrick as he turned, and in the same motion, raised the gun, firing twice.