A roadmap of hell was easy to come by.

It wasn’t a place filled with fire and brimstone, but one made of cement and barbwire, guarded by men with guns who were all too human.

Sitting on the East River between Queens and the Bronx, Sing Sing prison was not a place Iris Adler ever thought she would venture into, but that changed with her father’s murder conviction over eight years ago. After that, she had no choice but to familiarize herself with the place and its procedures if she wanted to see him.

Not to mention, her discomfort didn’t last for very long compared to what he suffered daily.

It didn’t help matters that he had once been a police detective—an especially proficient one responsible for putting more than a dozen criminals away in this prison alone. She had worried he would be targeted because of that. That men he had locked away would want him to answer for what he had done though they had been the ones to break the law in the first place.

But besides the occasional black eye—and he always mentioned that the other guy looked far worse—he wasn’t getting beat on.

That didn’t mean Iris didn’t worry about him because she did. And she always would until the day he was free to walk out the front gates.

Until then, her leg would bounce up and down with nerves as she sat in the cramped waiting room, doing her best not to stare at the large stainless steel clock hanging on the wall opposite her.

She had been waiting for nearly an hour and thirty-seven minutes, the longest she had ever had to sit in this room in all the years since she had started coming here on visitation days. Usually, she was called very quickly.

But the wait was worth it. No matter how long she had to sit in this uncomfortable folding chair, seeing her father was worth every discomfort.

“Adler!” called a beefy guard carrying a clipboard in his right hand, his gaze swiveling around the room and landing on her once she stood.

Iris swiped her sweaty palms along the front of her jeans, her heart thumping harder as she closed the distance between them. Even though she had done this more than a dozen times now, it hadn’t gotten any easier.

Anxiety still churned inside her as she followed the corrections officer out of the waiting room and down a dimly lit hallway. She always feared that one day, someone would realize the fake ID she used was counterfeit, and her secret would be out.

It wasn’t that she necessarily needed it, but it provided an extra level of security should anyone look at her father’s visitors a little too closely.

So far, she had been lucky.

She didn’t take it for granted.

They entered an oversized room next, divided in half by a cement and glass partition. Each individual booth afforded just enough privacy not to feel watched and monitored, though that was exactly what was happening.

All manner of people sat in the room, young and old, clean-cut in tailored suits, or casual in jeans and a plain T-shirt.

Iris walked toward the booth at the very end, her earlier worry and anxiety dissipating as she stared through the inches-thick glass at the man sitting on the other side, wearing an aged navy blue uniform that was becoming far too familiar for her comfort.

The dark hair she always remembered fondly had streaks of gray throughout, and now it even peppered the slight beard he had grown.

But no matter how much time had passed, or how his features shifted and changed with age, her father still looked the same to her.

His tired eyes briefly lit up as she took her seat, quickly grabbing the phone off the wall and putting it to his ear.

Even as it hurt seeing him on the other side of the glass, wishing she could hug him, Iris was glad she was able to see him at all. “Have you been working out?” she asked.

His laugh was immediate and infectious—the kind of contagious laughter you heard from the other side of the room that made you want to join in. The sound never failed to bring a pang to her chest.

He rested his elbows on the table, leaning in. “I’m happy to see you too. Your hair looks different.”

Her hair was a shade lighter thanks to a stylist in Hell’s Kitchen, but even if her hair hadn’t been a different color, Marvin still would have noticed something different about her.

Whether her nails were painted a different color or she had a new tattoo—though he hadn’t been fond of the last one she’d shown him—whatever it was, he always picked up on it.

She had asked him how he always knew. How he could possibly remember such tiny details.

He’d smiled then and said, “Because the small details are what keep me going.”

“It’s for a party,” she said, thinking of the event she was attending soon.

Seven years she had been waiting for this opportunity—for a chance to get back at the men who’d put her father in here. They had robbed him of his life and everything that meant anything to him.

She would make Spader and whoever worked with him regret it all.

A crooked grin spread across Marvin’s face. “Finally getting out there and living?”

He might have been the one wearing the uniform, but sometimes, it felt as if they were both locked inside a cell, barely existing. He didn’t understand that all she cared about was getting him his freedom.

And when she wasn’t actively working, she was thinking about her next move.

There was never any time for anything else.

Not that she minded.

This was all she wanted. This was all that drove her.

At least, it had been all she was until two months ago.

Before she accepted her final job with the Wraiths.

Before she had walked into a sketchy bar that changed her life in a matter of seconds.

Before she ever laid eyes on Synek.

“Not quite,” she answered, trying to push him to the back of her mind, though that was nearly an impossible task. “It’s a work thing.”

“An actual work thing,” he asked, his brow furrowed, “or something else?”

Iris had never told him about her involvement in her old organization, or what she had done for them. He wouldn’t have approved.

Especially since he had spent over twenty years locking people like the Wraiths away for the rest of their lives because of the crimes they committed. Because of crimes she helped them commit. Instead, she’d told him she was a freelancer.

A bounty hunter, of sorts.

“Something else,” Iris said, taking a breath before spilling why she was really there. “Something for us.”

Marvin’s expression shifted as he sat back in the metal chair, his displeasure clear. “What do you mean?”

Her father appeared resigned to his fate after having been forced to live the past eight years as an innocent man lost to a broken system. He didn’t ponder what-ifs or even think a day would come when he could walk out the front doors a free and vindicated man. He fully expected to die in this place even as Iris did everything in her power to make sure that wouldn’t happen.

“He’s not going to be free much longer,” she said, not needing to remind him who she was referring to.

They both knew who she meant.

There was never any guarantee her father wasn’t being watched or recorded, so Iris was always careful never to mention any names when she was here.

But Marvin didn’t look nearly as excited about her proclamation as she did.

In fact, he looked the opposite.

The father she used to know would have asked what she was planning to search for any weaknesses in her plans. The man she’d listened to on cassette tapes for years before she was ever able to visit him in person would have fought until the bitter end to find a way out of this.

At the very least, he should have been proud of her accomplishments thus far. She was close, after all—closer than she had ever dreamed of getting to a man who might as well have been untouchable.

Instead, the man sitting in front of her now didn’t look pleased at all by what she was saying. He just looked … sad.

“I—” He caught himself before he said her name, his look of frustration confusing her. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I know.”

Or she thought she did. They had repeatedly talked about this day, and even when he’d had his doubts, she persevered. She had dedicated her entire life to this. She couldn’t see it fail now.

And even if she had to believe for both of them, she would.

Iris didn’t have a choice.

“Things are different now,” she said, lowering her voice as she leaned closer to the glass. “I have help now.” The likes of which she would never be able to describe fully until he was out from behind bars and she could sit him down and break it to him gently.

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone and involved one of those law clinics,” Marvin said with a growing frown. “They ask too many questions and are more trouble than they’re worth.”

Law clinics meant well. Iris knew that. She had even gone to one years ago, but as underfunded and understaffed as they were, it hadn’t gone anywhere, and after a few weeks, that had been the end of that. She’d never gone back since.

“I didn’t. I found someone.” Which was not entirely a lie. “I mentioned him in the letter, remember?”

The letter she had mailed him two weeks ago had been a quickly written ramble of her thoughts and everything that had happened in her life since the last time she saw him—though never enough for anyone who might have stumbled upon it to understand what was being said. They had their own code.

At the time, she hadn’t known what to say about Synek when she’d mulled over her letter. She only knew that she had to mention him though. In a matter of weeks, he had become the single most important thing in her life.

And he had also become the key to getting her father out of prison.

“You shouldn’t be wasting your time on this,” Marvin said gently, his gaze dropping to his calloused hand on the glass separating them. “You need to enjoy your life. If you want to do something for me, give me that. I want you to be happy. I need you to be happy. That’s the only thing that’ll make this easier for me.”

“I will be,” she said softly, “but right now, the only thing that’ll make me happy is seeing you out of that uniform.” Because he had never deserved to be in it in the first place.

Marvin used to smile when she said that. It was what he had wanted too, but now, he didn’t look hopeful at the prospect.

He looked like he had given up, but it wasn’t until he spoke that she realized just how much.

“It would probably be better for you if you stopped coming here,” he said quietly, his gaze apologetic. “Easier this way.”

“Da—Marvin,” she said, feeling the swell of emotion rising in her throat.

She hated having to call him by his name. It felt wrong. Marvin wasn’t who he was to her. He was Dad, and she wished she could say as much.

Taking a breath, Iris tried not to lose faith. “I know it’s taken me a while, but it won’t be much longer now. I promise.”

“That’s not what this is about,” he responded with a sigh. “Whether it’s five years or a dozen, it all feels the same when you’re locked in here. But you’re not. Don’t make yourself a prisoner to this. You deserve more than that, you hear me?”

She heard him. She just wasn’t listening. “Did something happen?” she asked, refusing to believe that he was ready to give up on everything they had worked for.

He wasn’t just giving up because of his circumstances; he was giving up on her.

Marvin shook his head, no longer meeting her gaze, though his hand stayed pressed against the glass. She touched hers where his should have been, trying to remember what his palm felt like and the comfort she used to find there.

“I want you to be happy, Iris. That’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted. I was … wrong to leave you those tapes, and I see that now. I thought they might help you understand and bring you some closure, but they only made it worse, haven’t they?”

“What does that—”

“After today, I’m going to take your name off my visitor’s list.”

“You’re what?”

Iris clamped her mouth shut, realizing just how loud she had spoken when the guard nearby glanced at her in warning. Not once in the past seven years had she ever drawn attention to herself and made anyone take a second glance at her.

Then again, her father had never said he didn’t want to see her again either.

“Why would you do that?” she whispered fiercely, refusing to believe he would do something like that even as she saw the conviction in his face.

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” he answered in return, glancing up at the clock affixed to the wall over his shoulder. “I’m saving you from going down the same road I did. Seven years is enough. It was selfish of me to ask you to do it in the first place.”

After his trial, she had wandered for a long time, not sure what to do with herself as she ran from place to place. Only after Ernest’s trial had she gone to the locker he’d had set up for her in case of an emergency.

Inside, she had found the tapes, recordings, and copies of documents her father had put together in the months prior to the incident. There had also been a few thousand dollars rolled up in bundles in the bottom of the bag.

Through his tapes, she was able to connect the pieces of the puzzle leading back to the governor. The names combined with her later involvement with the Wraiths had ultimately led her to this moment.

Now, it was just a matter of time until she finished it.

“I’m close,” she told Marvin now. “I’ll tell you everything after we get you out, just … you have to give me a chance.”

But he wasn’t listening. He’d already made his mind up. “I want you to do something for me.”

“Anything.”

“Go. Be happy. Live your life without worrying about me. I shouldn’t be your burden, sweetheart.”

The tears Iris had been holding back since the beginning of their conversation came rushing forward, spilling onto her cheeks before she had a chance to brush them away. “You can’t ask me to do that.”

His smile was sad as he looked at their hands, at the barrier between them. “I’m your dad, Iris, and I think it’s time I let you go.”

“Don’t—”

“I love you, Iris. Your mother loved you too. Still does, wherever she is.”

Just as he refused to hear her, she refused to believe this was the end for him. “I’m going to make him confess. You’re going to be free.”

Marvin touched his fingers to his lips before pressing them to the glass, then moved the phone away from his ear and placed it back on the wall.

“Goodbye, Iris.”

“It’s not goodbye!” she yelled at him as he stood, knowing but not caring that others were staring at her, and she was seconds away from having their visit terminated. “It’s see you later.”

But Marvin wasn’t listening, or at least, he was better than she was at pretending because he didn’t turn back once as he slipped through the door back into the prison.

It was never goodbye.

Always see you later.

And she would. No matter what he said.

The next time she saw him, she would make sure he walked out of this place a free man and Spader had paid for what he did.

She just needed to make it happen, but that didn’t stop the tears from tracking down her face with every step she took away from her father.

* * *

Iris didn’t take a proper breath until she was walking out of Sing Sing, clutching her fake ID in one hand, the other hand brushing her long strands of hair back out of her face.

She wasn’t much of a smoker, never had been, but at that moment, the only thing she wished for was a cigarette to take the edge off—or at least a good shot of expensive vodka.

Anything was better than what she was feeling right now.

The visit hadn’t been a total disaster. She had seen that her father was in relatively good health and didn’t look like he was having too much of a hard time, but the idea that he didn’t want to see her anymore because he thought it was too much for her just made her heart feel heavy.

Iris was nearly to her car when the driver’s door eased open, and a long, lean body unfolded itself from inside.

Synek.

It was ridiculous how quickly she walked toward him, but as he rounded the car looking just as dark and curious as he had the first day they met and stopped at the trunk waiting for her, she didn’t care. She threw her arms around him, feeling the unyielding strength of his hold as he returned her embrace, and she couldn’t think of anywhere else she’d rather be.

Synek didn’t ask questions, and she loved him all the more for it. The smell of the leather jacket he wore was just as comforting as the feel of his arms around her.

Jesus, he’d ruined her, but she didn’t mind.

His fingers slipped beneath the fall of her hair as he turned her to look at him, wearing a concerned expression. “What’s wrong?”

She had tried to clean herself up in the restroom, not wanting him to know that she’d been crying at all, but she should have known he would see right through any mask she tried to put up.

He was good at that.

“It’s nothing,” she answered, wishing she could tell him.

But she hardly understood her father’s reasoning herself, let alone enough to explain it for him to understand.

The only thing she knew for sure was that her father was giving up, and she hated that.

His thumb stroked over the nape of her neck. “I don’t like tears, dove. They make me twitchy. Give me a name.”

A startled laugh left her as a genuine smile finally curled her lips. Of course, he could make her feel better without trying. “You can’t solve all my problems by killing them.”

What made it funnier was the shrug he offered as if what he was suggesting made perfect sense. “It’ll end the problem permanently, I’ll say. Come now, dove, a little knife work always does wonders for me.”

“Later,” she said as she reluctantly pulled out of his embrace, mindful that they were still in the prison’s parking lot. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

She didn’t miss the look on his face, but he finally nodded and opened the passenger door for her. He wasn’t going to forget about this anytime soon.

Nearly two weeks to the day, their Wraith problem had come to an end, and the targets on their backs disappeared. And in that time, Synek had made it a point to have her divulge all her secrets. She told him things she never thought she would share with another person.

Telling him about her old childhood home and where she had grown up was easy. Anything she could remember about that old blue house and its white shutters, she described in vivid detail, and it brought a smile to her face. She loved remembering and even talking about that house because, despite everything else, it was still a happy memory.

She could tell him the story about how she had skinned her knee at recess but didn’t cry because she thought everybody would laugh at her—which he found particularly funny.

But whenever she tried to tell him about her father, or about the governor, or about any combination of the two, the words got lost in her throat.

For so long, she had kept everything a secret. Where she had come from. Her father. The governor. Everything.

She wasn’t used to talking about herself, and more, she wasn’t used to confiding in someone about something so personal. Something so important.

Especially not with someone she had known for less than three months. It didn’t matter that it felt like they had known each other for ages.

While she might not have liked many of them, she had considered herself cordial and even friendly with a few Wraiths. But none had ever tempted her to spill her secrets.

Synek … she wanted to tell him everything, but she didn’t know how.

She could try, and she would have to now that her father was stepping back.

Iris buckled in, watching as Synek walked around the car and then slid behind the wheel. He drove like he did everything else—with effortless calm but unwavering attention. His eyes never left the road.

“He doesn’t want me to visit him again,” Iris said before her brain could talk her out of it. “The only reason he saw me today was to tell me he was taking me off the visitor’s list.”

Without taking his eyes off the road in front of him, Synek reached over with one hand and curled his fingers around her thigh.

This, his possessiveness while offering silent comfort, was one of the reasons she liked him so much. He didn’t apologize for things that weren’t his fault, and he didn’t look at her with pity. Instead, he gave her what she never asked for, which made it all the more better.

“Probably for the best,” he said a moment later, his gaze shifting to her only once they stopped at a red light and he felt her tense. “Come now, dove, don’t look at me like that. You know I’m right.”

“How so, exactly?”

“If we go after Spader, he’s going to think of everyone he ever crossed until he figures out where the threat is coming from. You’ve been careful not to get caught thus far, so you don’t want to fuck that up.”

Unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong.

Men like Spader might have spent an exorbitant amount of time racking up enemies, but they usually didn’t forget who they crossed or who crossed them.

She wasn’t sure how long it would take for him to pay her father a visit, but if she started shaking trees, it wouldn’t be long. It was inevitable.

“He would have told me not to come back even if I had told him about going after Spader. I didn’t even get the chance.”

Which explained why he had both been sad and happy to see her.

In another bout of honesty, she told him, “He said he wants me to live my life without worrying about him, but I don’t know how to turn that off.”

Synek was quiet for a long while before he responded. “Things aren’t always what we’d like them to be, dove.”

Yeah, she knew that all too well.

Because nothing about her life was how she imagined it would be at this point.

Iris had never gotten the chance to think of who or even what she’d wanted to be before the choice was taken away from her. And though she had never admitted it aloud, she missed out on so much.

High school.

College.

Everything.

“Hey.”

She glanced in Synek’s direction, only guessing what her face must have reflected considering the way he was looking at her. He might have rough edges, but in the weeks since Rosalie died, and even the weeks prior to that, he had started showing her there was more to him than that.

He could be soft—if that was even the right word for it.

He liked her, and he wasn’t afraid to show that.

“If you want something done, yeah, that means we have to do it ourselves, don’t we? Don’t worry your pretty little face, dove. If I have to skin that governor alive to get you what you want, consider it done.”

Iris smiled.

She liked his rough edges too.

“Now,” he went on with a smile, “nothing wrong with a bit of torture to lift your spirits.”