For a woman being held captive inside a windowless room, Belladonna didn’t look very much like a prisoner.

Iris had sat at the desk watching the feeds for the past couple of hours while everyone else moved around her, lost in their own thoughts, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the woman who had caused the frenzy.

She didn’t issue threats. She hadn’t fought anyone who brought her in here—or at least, she hadn’t when Synek and the others brought her in earlier.

Belladonna was calm. Respectful even.

To everyone but the Kingmaker.

For him, there was genuine contempt in her gaze.

“Hey.”

Iris turned at the sound of Winter’s voice, surprised to find her standing inside the room. Though she didn’t doubt the hacker already knew that Belladonna was here, she wore the same curious expression as Iris when she glanced past her to the monitors.

Iris wasn’t the only one who didn’t know what to make of the woman.

Blinking, Winter looked back at her before jerking her thumb over her shoulder. “They’re bringing him in now.”

“Him?” she asked even as her heart tripped over herself.

Hope was always a dangerous thing, and something she never allowed herself to feel. The thought of the crushing disappointment that would follow, but now … now she was daring to hope.

All because of Synek.

“Spader,” Winter said, probably not realizing how that one name affected her. “Thought you would want to see his perp walk.”

Because it was the only one he would get.

A part of her had been disappointed that he wouldn’t be brought to justice and that others wouldn’t see him for the corrupt bastard he was, but in the end, he would be confessing, so she didn’t mind too much.

Taking one last glance back at the monitors, Iris stood, following Winter out of the room and down the hallway toward the staircase that overlooked the garage bay. None of the men positioned nearby paid attention to them as they found a vantage point that allowed them to see the doors as they came open.

Michael Spader, the bane of her existence and the criminal who had eluded her the longest, came stumbling through the doors, tripping over his own feet. Not because his hands were shackled and his balance was off, but because he was trying to get away from one of the mercenaries who looked as if he was two seconds from trying to take his head off.

Synek.

She probably shouldn’t have felt pride at that moment, but it was there all the same.

But as he went for his knife, the men around him shifting with unease, Iris merely tried to contain a smile as she called his name, just loud enough to be heard over the voices in his head encouraging him to hurt Spader.

His gaze shot up to her but so did Spader’s.

Recognition lit up his eyes before they narrowed. He didn’t know who she was just yet, or how the two of them were connected—he only knew she had been around his wife.

For all he knew, she had been the one to tell the media about his affair.

If only she was that lucky.

He might not have known who she was yet, but by the end of his time here, he would.

Iris was counting on it.

Synek nodded for the others to take Spader away, coming up to her instead.

She should have been thinking about all the ways she would interrogate Spader, or even letting Synek do his brand of interrogation so long as they got what they needed in the end. It was what he deserved, after all. But as she watched Synek jog up the stairs to her, his sweaty dark hair hanging over his face and his bulletproof vest unstrapped on one side, the ex-governor was the last thing on her mind.

He was all she saw.

Iris wasn’t sure who came to who first. The only thing she knew in the next second was the feel of his lips and the utter contentment rushing through her.

She owed him everything.

He smiled when she pulled away, the sight of it making her feel warm inside. “Job’s not done yet.”

No, it wasn’t.

But they were close.

Synek took her hand, walking her back the way she’d come, but when they returned to the room, the Kingmaker was waiting for them. Iris still wasn’t used to being in the same room as him. He had a tangible energy about him. As if she needed to keep her eyes on him at all times.

“As you might be aware,” he said to the room as a whole, “Belladonna has made her demands. Considering I broke one of hers first”—this he said without any guilt or upset at all—“I’m attempting to honor the others before I grow weary of them. There’s only one that truly matters. She wants only to speak with Iris.”

“Me?” Iris asked, looking back and forth between them to make sure she heard correctly. “Belladonna only wants to talk to me?”

The Kingmaker nodded once. “I’m sure she would have asked to speak to Calavera if she thought it was at all feasible.”

But judging from the way Nix stood with feigned casualness across the room, she doubted Calavera was getting within a foot of that room.

“But why would she want to talk to me?”

Of all the people who had come in and out of this place since her arrival, Iris was sure she knew her the least. There had only been that moment back in Rosalie’s office when Belladonna had handed over the file on Synek.

Truthfully, Iris hadn’t thought much more of her until she’d inadvertently brought her up to Synek.

Now, Belladonna wanted to see her.

Before anyone could answer her question, Winter asked one of her own. “Anyone else curious about the white thing?”

Everyone looked at her except for the Kingmaker, who merely rubbed his temples at the inquiry.

“What’s that?” Synek asked.

“Seriously? No one else has noticed that she’s always in white. Her car is white … She requested a white uniform.”

Now that Iris thought about it, the woman had been wearing a white dress the last time she saw her, but the fact hadn’t seemed important at the time. But if she had been in white when each one of the mercenaries had met her too, it seemed important.

“Right now, her arbitrary choices are of no concern,” the Kingmaker said tightly, his patience very clearly worn thin. “I need to know what she’s planning, and seeing as she refuses to speak with me, I think this is far more important than that damn color.”

No, his patience hadn’t worn thin. It was gone completely.

But his bad demeanor didn’t faze Winter. “Seems like all she does is speak to you. You’re just not listening.”

Iris could see the man was mere seconds from issuing a retort, but before he could, she asked, “If I talk to her, will you search for the governor?”

“That’s my intention regardless of your involvement,” he said matter-of-factly.

“If I’m going to do something for you, I want something in return.”

“My apologies if I gave you the impression this was a negotiation. Perhaps I should rephrase.”

“That sounds like a threat, bruv,” Synek said, a dark edge to his voice even as he relaxed further into his chair. “Let’s mind our words, yeah?”

He’d told her once that she was always the most powerful person in the room because she had him, but standing opposite a man like the Kingmaker, she wasn’t so sure.

She could practically feel the menace bleeding out of him as his gaze swept from her to Synek.

He was a man who wasn’t used to being questioned—especially from men he employed.

Before Synek could respond to the threat or do something stupid that would incur the man’s wrath, Iris cleared her throat.

“I only ask that I get a chance to get something from the man before … well, whatever the hell you’re planning to do to him. That’s all.”

Besides, she didn’t particularly mind speaking to Belladonna. She was as curious about the mysterious woman as the rest of them were even though the thought made her uneasy.

She wanted information from the woman, but she didn’t believe for a second that Belladonna didn’t have a trick or two up her sleeve.

“Then your conversation with her should be of particular interest, considering she’s the one helping Spader.”

Iris didn’t miss that he didn’t actually agree to what she wanted from him, but she also knew that she had Synek on her side and he would make sure she got what she needed to free her father.

There was only one choice she could make.

* * *

Belladonna didn’t look like a threat.

She was of average height, no more than five and a half feet, with a button nose, soft features, and a smile that drew you in.

The white dress she had been wearing when they brought her in had been replaced by a white two-piece outfit—the pants flowy and the top almost two sizes too big. Her hair was drawn up into a ponytail, chic on her when it would have been messy on Iris.

It was the little details, Iris thought as she approached the woman’s cell, that stood out to her the most.

She couldn’t help but remember the way Bear had looked the day she mentioned the Kingmaker’s name to him. How there hadn’t been fear, per se, but a healthy amount of caution that told her he would avoid the man as much as humanly possible.

Even the mercenaries who had worked for the man for years didn’t question his orders and all fell in line when they needed to.

Yet Belladonna didn’t blink an eye at challenging the man earlier. Nor did she seem to care that she was currently sitting inside a cell.

Iris took tentative steps toward the chair set up in front of the glass wall, swallowing the moment Belladonna’s gaze shifted to her.

“Iris, I’m so glad you could join me. I hope Uilleam didn’t issue too many threats to get you down here.”

“Not many, no,” she answered, still unused to the way she casually said the Kingmaker’s name. “He said you would only speak with me.”

Belladonna stood and walked over to her own chair. Perching on the very end of it, she crossed one leg over the other. “I thought you would have a question for me, all things considered.”

“About Syn, you mean?”

Belladonna smiled as if they shared a secret. “That’s a little obvious, isn’t it? I believe you can do better than that.”

“Why me?” Iris asked instead. “I’m assuming you wanted me to go after Syn in the first place.”

“True,” Belladonna said with a nod. “If I hadn’t, he would have come to New York and taken the governor. That couldn’t happen.”

“Why not?”

“Because your father is in prison, of course.”

Ice solidified in her veins as Iris stared through the glass at the woman. “How do you know that?”

At the question, Belladonna’s expression softened. “I was the one who put him there.”