Rora heard little else for the rest of the evening. It was getting dark and with every second that passed, she feared what could be going on out there. Torres should have his confession from Burke by now. She trusted that whatever tech Strike had set him up with, the agent would get what he needed to clear his name and although it was heartening to hear that Torres had been supportive, she still classed this as a major favor that she’d expect to be repaid one day when they needed it.

And, if nothing else, she shouldn’t have to explain why she had no inclination to roll on her love anymore.

If she knew Strike, he’d have spent the last couple of hours preparing for their escape. No doubt Bella was talking plans for the future, but Rora doubted Strike was thinking much beyond that night.

The next time that door opened, it would either be Strike telling her they were leaving or him coming in with Bella who expected him to violate the prisoner.

His aversion to rape was rooted in what had happened to his mother. She had a feeling that it didn’t matter how much she reassured him, her flame would judge himself if he gave into Bella’s demands. The hatred he had for his father was entrenched in him, and he’d despise himself if he thought he’d done anything that might make his father proud.

It turned out, she was wrong.

The next time the door opened, she held her breath, waiting to see which version of her man would come in. But it was not him, it was Junker. He had his arm bandaged and was wearing a sling. Someone had treated him, and she couldn’t imagine it being Strike.

“So you switched the Point out on me?” he asked.

Wrinkling her nose, she tried to shrug. “I’m sorry.”

He sighed. “That’s ok. I should’ve figured it out. Everyone’s on edge, no one knows who to trust,” he said and showed her a bowl. “I brought some of the soup you made at lunch.”

Soup that could be drugged? Was he to have his way with her before Strike got here?

“Thanks,” she said. “But it’s sort of tough to eat.” She was still technically tied to the bed after all, but he came in and set the bowl on the nightstand. “Did you kill him?”

She dreaded the answer, but if Junker had managed to convince Bella he was right, Strike might have been caught unawares. “No,” Junker said and started to loosen her bounds. “Bella came to talk to me… I think maybe she likes the idea of having some family around, even if she didn’t know I existed. At least, she’s not ready to kill me yet.”

“That’s something,” she said, trying not to recoil when he laid across her to untie her other arm. As soon as she was loose, she breathed out and sat up, grateful to rub her aching arms. “Thank you.”

He handed her the bowl of soup and she smiled, though she was considering throwing it in his face. There was steam coming from the liquid, but she could hold the bowl without burning herself, so she doubted it was hot enough to cause serious injury.

Rora didn’t want to eat and stirred the liquid wondering how she’d fake it; Junker saved her the trouble. He rose from the bed and walked toward the darkened window.

“She’s my sister,” he said.

Because he wasn’t watching her, Rora made the occasional noise with the spoon, but didn’t bother to eat. “It must be quite an adjustment for you,” she said, because as long as he thought they were friends, she might be able to reason with him. “For both of you.”

“Exile isn’t as understanding as you are,” he said. Junker didn’t try to disguise how much he hated Strike. He thought he had reason, but seemed to have forgotten what his father and brothers were doing to Strike when he killed them. “He keeps telling her I can’t be trusted. He’s using his power over her to turn her against me.”

“But you’re free,” she said, putting the soup on the nightstand and shifting to the edge of the bed. “She must have some trust in you.”

Bella had admitted to liking the chase and there was no doubting this whole drama was exciting the Black Jewel. This late, it would be insanity for anyone to go running out into the dark. So, however the night turned out, Bella would be thinking that they were all stuck here and the only person Junker had threatened so far was Exile.

Bella wouldn’t be averse to seeing the men fight. She might not want Strike dead, but she did get turned on when anyone got physical with him.

“I need your help, Aurora,” he said, and turned to come over and stand in front of her, a grave look on his face. “I need you to help me kill him.”

“Junk—”

“Once he’s gone, she’ll see we’re right. We’ll be able to convince her…”

And they’d be able to give Bella the Point to complement the processor she’d already stolen. “And Burke?”

She didn’t know if Junker knew Torres was there or what he’d said to Bella about the man whose life they’d saved. Anything Junker said might contradict something Strike had told the Black Jewel.

Rora hadn’t been around to hear all their conversations over the past few days, so she’d stay quiet on the subject around Bella. But Junker was looking to earn points and discredit Strike, God knew what he’d say.

Sinking down at her side, he caught her face in both hands. “Once we get rid of Exile, the others don’t matter,” he said. “Please, Rora, help me.”

Staring into her, she felt his compulsion, and wondered if it had been his plan all along to ask her to do this for him. Had Junker ever killed? Was he capable? It was one thing to say you wanted someone dead, but following through was something else. She’d caused havoc in her time with Exile, no doubt about that, but even she hadn’t killed.

Junker began to pull her closer and she feared he was trying to use seduction to convince her to join his side. But there wasn’t going to be a kiss or an alliance. Her fingers began to rise, but she wasn’t going to embrace or caress him, her thoughts were wholly on the knife her flame had put in her cleavage.

The time had come; Junker was useless to them and a threat to her love, if she got the chance to finish this now, that’s exactly what she was going to do.

A bang came from beyond the room. Short and sharp, there was only one thing it could be.

“A gunshot,” she said, surging to her feet in time with Junker who shared her panicked look.

Together, they dashed from the room.

Every other door in the hallway was open. Burke, Torres, and Strike were all crowded around Bella, who was shorter than all of them, so it was tough to see what was going on.

Bella coughed. “Prince,” she said and fell against Strike who caught her and guided her down to the floor.

Junker called out and pushed her aside to rush over and pull Strike to his feet. “Get away from her!”

Strike moved away, and Rora felt herself drawn toward him. He didn’t face her, but she caught the seam of his tee-shirt and peeked around him at the bleeding woman on the floor.

Junker dropped down to Bella’s side, gaping and dismayed by the sight of the blood staining her dress. For a second, he just sat there, looking at the growing stain, then he pressed both his hands to her.

“No,” Bella said, mustering her strength to sit up and push him away. “Prince… I need my prince.”

Rora released him, expecting him to go, but he shook his head. “There’s nothing I can do for you, Bell,” Strike said, cold as ice.

Bella coughed, and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Junker flew to his feet and grabbed Strike’s shirt in both hands, pulling him across to Bella and urging him down to his knees.

“Fix her! Fix her like you fixed him!” Junker demanded and shoved Strike’s shoulders.

Rora went closer, moving to Bella’s feet, her eyes wide and unblinking. She was watching the life seep out of this woman. There was no way Bella would make it out of this, her eyes were glazed, her skin gray, and the blood saturated her dress. It pooled on the floor, smudging as she rolled toward Strike, and grabbed at his tee-shirt.

He took her wrist and pushed her away, but Bella kept trying to get hold of him. Rora didn’t know she’d moved until she kneeled at her love’s side. Taking Bella’s hand, Rora closed it around Strike’s, holding them together. She could feel Strike’s disgust and his anger, but he didn’t pull away.

Bella’s eyes met hers, and a tear slipped from her lashes in time with the one Rora felt streaking her own cheek. “I forgive you,” Rora said and bowed to kiss Bella’s cheek.

The Jewel’s wet eyes were filled with fear and gratitude though they grew heavier before they moved toward Strike.

When Rora looked to her love, she saw nothing but stoic resignation. “Say something, Flame,” she whispered encouraging him to offer the dying woman some words of comfort.

“Prince,” Bella breathed out the weak word. “You will… come to…”

“No,” he said, taking his hand away from Bella’s and pushing Rora’s away when she tried to touch Bella again.

He folded Bella’s hands on her chest and then bent over to whisper in her ear. Rora didn’t hear what was said, but when Strike rose enough to look the woman in the eye, she could see his severe expression. In Bella’s eyes, there was nothing but horror and heartache.

Strike touched his lips to Bella’s and brushed her hair from her forehead. He kept his hand there, his eyes fixed on hers as the life slowly seeped from her.

A last breath seeped from her lips and her body loosened.

There was a moment of peace.

Strike’s hand slid down from her forehead, closing her eyes, and then he stood, pulling Rora to her feet too.

Everyone else seemed to be in shock. But Strike picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles. “We’re out of here, Kero,” he murmured on her skin.

“You!” Junker screamed. “You did this!”

Leaping over his sister, he shoved Strike. Rora took her chance to put herself in front of her love just as Bella had done earlier in the day.

“No!” Torres shouted, drawing everyone’s attention. “It was Burke! He shot her! She came in to seduce him, trying to make Exile jealous! She gave him a gun with one bullet, told Burke to shoot me for rejecting her, but he shot her instead!”

“No!” Burke said, but looked guilty as hell. “I didn’t!”

Rora didn’t know who had pulled the trigger, all she knew was there was a dead woman on the floor and tension crackling in the air. She and Strike were stuck here with everyone else between them and the stairs. It seemed that Junker didn’t know who to believe either and was glaring at them all with suspicion.

Strike’s hand slid over her hip and up the front of her top. She thought this wasn’t exactly the most appropriate moment for getting handsy but didn’t move. His fingertips crept into her cleavage from beneath, using the fabric as a cover for retrieving the switch blade he’d put in there earlier.

Rora couldn’t have guessed he’d need it after Bella’s death, but she was pleased it was there to protect both of them. Junker turned back to them a second after Strike’s hand slipped out of her top. Rora stepped forward and coughed, giving her love space, and cover, to open the blade just behind her ass.

“It was him,” Torres said. “I have no reason to lie. Kill Exile if you want, I don’t care, but this is one murder not on him.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Burke hollered. “You fucking—”

“It was you!”

Junker dug a hand in his pocket and pulled out a knife. Lunging forward, he swept it across Burke’s throat before he could say another word. The man stuttered and coughed, grabbing for his throat and stumbling forward, forcing Junker out of the way. Just as Burke started to go down next to Bella, Junker shoved him hard, sending him headfirst down the stairs, leaving a trail of fresh blood all the way down.

Rora couldn’t see the bottom of the stairs from where she was, but when the gurgling silenced, she guessed that was the end of Burke. So it turned out Junker did have a murderous streak after all.

“But I’m taking no chances,” Junker said and set Strike in his sights.

“No!” she called, opening her arms to block Strike when Junker started toward him.

“Cupcake,” Strike said, sweeping her aside with a strong arm.

She fought to get in front of him, protecting him was all she could think about. But, Torres appeared behind Junker, holding a heavy bronze candlestick aloft. He brought it down hard on the back of Junker’s head, sending him to the floor.

Junker slumped over Bella.

Those still on their feet, stayed suspended in time. Torres held the candlestick, and Strike had a blade, but it wasn’t strong enough to take the weight of that candlestick. But if they started to fight…

She looked from Torres to Strike and back, her lips dry, her pulse sprinting. “Take Burke’s vehicle, it’s less than a half-mile up the road,” Strike said. “You have your confession?”

Some of the strength left Torres’ arm and he let it sink a little, then a little more. “We’re square?” Torres asked.

“Wouldn’t go that far,” Strike said. “Game resets at sunrise.”

Torres actually smiled. “As always, Ex,” he said and took a tentative step forward to hold out a hand.

Her eyes widened a little as she waited to see how her flame would handle this offer. Though it was clear he was hesitant, Strike slowly raised his hand and the two men shook.

If she wasn’t so shocked, she might have smiled. After the handshake, Torres tipped his imaginary cap at her. He dropped the candlestick and then turned to flee.

Strike folded the blade and stuck it in his pocket. “Least we’ve got time to pack this time,” he said. “Grab your shit.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not hanging around to bury bodies. This place is compromised, there’s no way Leandra can come back here now.”

“But, I…” He took his phone from his pocket to wave it once. “Wonderland?” she asked.

“Wonderland.”

Jumping into action, she went to gather everything she’d brought and wiped down anything she thought either of them might have touched. It wasn’t a thorough job, but it was better than nothing.

Strike was doing his own tasks, which she guessed included making sure there wasn’t going to be any evidence of their presence. When he was done, he bundled her into the truck with their things, and put Opal on her lap.

Typing on his phone, he did what had to be done and then handed the device to her to get the car started.

“Wait,” Rora said after the car rolled an inch.

“If you’ve forgotten anything, you’re too late.”

“I did forget something,” she said and put the tech on the dash to lean over the center console.

With a hand on his cheek, she drew his mouth to hers. Ignoring the growing spread of orange coming from the back window, and the encroaching heat, she poured all her love and gratitude into that kiss. Not just because she loved the man, but because she was grateful they’d had the chance to leave that place together.

“Love you, Cupcake.”

He didn’t say it much, but saying it now told her his thoughts were as potent as hers in that moment. “You walked away from your toy for me,” she said. “You chose me.”

“I did,” he said, but his lips curled. They kept on rising until there was no mistaking his smile. “But my love isn’t the only thing I’m packing.”

She bumped her nose on his. “You found it?”

“I found it.”

“Strike,” she sighed, leaning back, her hand cradling his jaw.

“Don’t think I need it though,” he said, and she tilted her head in question. “I already figured it out.”

She didn’t follow. “Figured what out?”

“What’s the point,” he said, and her mouth opened in a silent ‘ah’ of understanding. Curling his fingers, he brushed them down her jaw and under her chin to tip it up. “This… this is the point.”

“You’re goddamn right it is,” she whispered and welcomed his kiss.

Their life together wasn’t going to be conventional. Rora didn’t have the first clue what it was going to be. The important thing was that they were going to share it. That was all they needed. Because as long as they were together, they didn’t need another soul. They were happy with the one they shared.