The loft was quiet for once.

Fang had taken off somewhere with Mariya. Thanatos and Invictus were locked away in a room somewhere, leaving the television off for once instead of being parked in front of it with controllers in their hands. And though Răzvan had done his best to stay up with her and wait for her to finish her work before he’d gone to bed, he’d been too exhausted to stay awake any longer than a few minutes.

Not that Winter blamed him. She understood why. She saw the evidence of his exhaustion just as clearly as she did the others.

These were the moments when she felt the difference the most. Unlike the others, Winter didn’t feel tired or worn down. She wasn’t bruised with scrapes that needed to heal and sore muscles that screamed for an ice bath.

She’d had one measly little cut on her brow, hardly enough to cause a fuss over, though Răzvan had treated her like glass for the first few days after. But beyond that insignificant little mark, she was fine.

Completely fine.

The Den had suffered in ways she couldn’t imagine, yet she was untouched.

Răzvan and the boys were all silently suffering because they didn’t just feel physical pain anymore. They now had to face the reality that the brother they thought had died in the Romanian wilderness was alive and well.

And an enemy of the Den.

That didn’t mean she didn’t feel the emotions going on around her with a weight on her shoulders. She did, but it wasn’t the same, and she couldn’t stand the idea of everyone around her hurting more.

She needed to do more.

Blowing out a breath, Winter stood, turning her back on the set of monitors surrounding her new office—a room in the loft Răzvan had spent weeks converting until it was the optimal space for her. Not only was there a complete wall made up of more than a dozen monitors, but there was special tech newly built into the walls that helped her internet speeds go ten times the regular speed. Another wall had every bit of equipment she could think of organized and stored.

It was a hacker’s haven.

But it didn’t feel much like a safe space anymore, not when this room had become all about her work. Each monitor had a continued and uninterrupted feed of not just outside the loft, but also outside every residence where her mercenaries were staying.

She didn’t give a second thought to their privacy then as she activated the tracking software she had embedded on their phones to find their location—she just needed to assure herself they were fine. That Belladonna hadn’t gotten to them again.

The first time was enough and more than her conscience could bear.

It made her feel better that she had a visual, that she would be able to see anyone coming before they could breach the house, but it also meant that she had to constantly monitor the feeds. Set up alarms should facial recognition software find Belladonna or any of the few men who Winter had been able to catch on film coming near their homes.

But the variables were plenty.

Not only could Belladonna have other people carry out whatever job she wanted, but there was no physical way possible for Winter to be there twenty-four hours out of the day, which only added to her stress.

Between this and hunting down the men responsible for taking Răzvan’s voice and making the boys’ childhood hell, she was surprised she was even awake long enough to function.

Closing her eyes, she allowed herself a moment to breathe. To clear her thoughts until her mind was blank.

A second, just to recharge. To remind herself that if they could put their very lives on the line, she could manage to fend off sleep for a little while longer.

Coffee was what she needed.

Winter turned, putting a fist over her mouth as she yawned and headed for the door, but she barely stepped a foot outside it before each of her monitors chirped then blacked out, one by one, so quickly that she didn’t have a chance to even make it back to her desk before each feed was dead.

Coffee forgotten, her heart dropped out of her chest and panic seared through her veins as she tried to pull back up the footage, fearing the worst. But no matter how quickly she typed, no matter what code she used, nothing changed.

“No, no, no, no ...”

As quickly as the fear had engulfed her, it dissipated when the monitors all lit up at once. But instead of the security feeds, all she saw was Belladonna’s face.

“Hello, Winter.”

She was smiling, the white dress she wore wrinkle free and her hair immaculate. She looked less the Kingmaker’s prisoner and more the criminal mastermind she had always been.

“Did you hack me?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t possess that skill, but an associate of mine does.”

That wasn’t possible. Not because of hubris, but because it was just fact. Not many hackers in the world possessed the same level of skill that Winter possessed. She had cultivated her skill for years since she was a child.

“Who?”

Her smile was soft, kind. A contradiction to the woman Winter thought she was. “Her name isn’t important.”

“Then what do you want? Are you sending Sebastian to grab me like you did the others?” She very purposely used Sebastian’s name.

Not the actual or other colorful names that the Den liked to call him—Sebastian. Because that was who he was even if she had never met him. He meant something to the man she loved, which meant he meant something to her.

Winter had hoped to see her react, maybe even see her get angry, but besides a downturn of her lips, her face was carefully composed. She didn’t know what to make of it.

The silence stretched on a moment before Belladonna spoke again. “You don’t like me very much, do you, Winter?”

Uh ... “Why the hell would I? You’re the reason for all of this.”

As if they had all the time in the world, Belladonna sat back and folded her hands in her lap, regarding her with that sort of uncanny focus the Kingmaker possessed. Though she hadn’t wanted to admit it, simply because she actually liked the Kingmaker, they really did remind her of each other.

The careful, nuanced way they spoke.

The “game” they were playing.

The way they looked at each other when they thought no one else was watching.

Winter had never thought anyone would be as good as the Kingmaker at what he did, but she was. She made it look as effortless as he did.

“Is that what he’s told you all these years?” Belladonna asked. “I’ll even wager a guess that he told you all he formulated this team of mercenaries to exact vengeance for what he believed was my murder.”

“It’s a good enough reason as any,” Winter said with a shrug, slyly moving her keyboard onto her lap.

The beauty of typing for so long was that the keys were muscle memory. She didn’t have to look down to plug in an algorithm to trace Belladonna’s hack.

“Did that make it easier?” she asked. “Doing his bidding because you thought you were trying to heal a man’s old wounds? I’m sure you know all about that.”

Was she trying to be funny? “Again, what do you want?”

“I have a task for you. Something that will prove important in due time.”

Winter couldn’t be sure she had heard her correctly, not when it sounded as if she was asking her to do something for her. As if they were associates.

Then again, didn’t the Kingmaker do the same?

“It looks to me like you already have a hacker of your own,” Winter said as she finished the last of her algorithm and sent it through, barely resisting the urge to tap her fingers along the top of her desk as it worked. “What would you need me for?”

“Your task won’t aid me in my endeavors, if that’s what you’re thinking. Well ...” She paused and shrugged. “Not entirely.”

“Then what do you want from me?” Winter asked, trying not to appear as impatient as she felt.

By now, the code should have already run its course and produced results—or, at the very least, a command box should have opened on one of the monitors that would allow her to take back control of her own system.

Instead, she was still locked out.

“It’s not what I need. It’s what the mercenaries will.”

She might have been distracted before, but Belladonna now had her full attention. “What does that mean?”

“As Uilleam’s hacker, you’re privy to more of the inner workings of the Den than the others. You have access where the others don’t.”

“Is that what this is about? You want me to give you information, and you give me something in return?”

That seemed to be the gist of what Belladonna was doing. Calavera had hinted at it from her interactions with the woman, and Ada had come into the Den in part because she had information on Belladonna, and in part because Belladonna had, in a way, effectively saved her life.

But, if that was what Belladonna intended, she didn’t say as much. “The contracts the mercenaries were ordered to sign have a very specific language in them. I’m sure you already know that, considering you’ve read over them a time or two.”

“How would you know that?”

“Because you grew up in this life,” she said matter-of-factly. “And for a girl as gifted as you are, I quite imagine the Den was everything you had ever dreamed of. It would make sense that you looked into things so you would know everything you were in for should you have joined.”

She wasn’t wrong.

Winter had pored over everything for weeks when she’d considered going behind Synek’s back and trying to wrestle a contract out of the Kingmaker, but while the man had been willing to utilize her services when it came to the Den, he hadn’t let her become one of his mercenaries.

Because of Synek, he’d said.

Now, she couldn’t help but wonder if that had been the right choice.

“Why do you want me to look at the contracts?” Winter asked, trying to hide her smile of triumph when she saw that her hack had finally gone through and she was inside Belladonna’s system.

Now, she couldn’t afford to sort through it all to find whatever was useful, so she just pulled as much as she absolutely could while she had her on the phone.

“It would be in the mercenaries’ best interest to find a way to break their contracts. Soon, I’d imagine.”

“Bullshit,” Winter said, returning her gaze to the woman, momentarily distracted. “There’s no way the Kingmaker would have left anything like that in there.”

They were ironclad. Foolproof.

The contract was the contract, and the only way to walk away from the Den was for it to expire.

“Then perhaps you should read it again, and again, and once more until you find it because if you don’t, I’m afraid everything I have done will be moot.”

Why did she make it sound as if everything she was doing was for them and not to serve her own selfish agenda? What was that agenda?

“Do take care, Winter,” Belladonna said, a soft smile now on her face. “I trust we’ll meet again.”

Before she could get a word out, Belladonna ended the call and severed the connection, not that it mattered. Winter had enough data pulled that she would have to spend the next few days sorting through it all, but as much as she wanted to dig through it and answer questions the Kingmaker wouldn’t, she hesitated.

It wasn’t because Belladonna asked her to that she logged into her personal server and brought up the contract, finding the one Red had signed years ago. It was because she needed to know for herself.

For him, even.

Because he wouldn’t stop until he had fulfilled his promise to Iris, and he wasn’t someone who would mind the lines.

For that reason only, she told herself as she started on the first page and read on.

Not because there was a sudden fear in her heart for what the future would bring.