He removed his sunglasses to level a dry look on her, not even remotely entertained. “Once you have what you need, have the Romanians destroy any information she has on me.”
Winter frowned, laughing lightly. “You know I don’t command them, right?”
“No, my brother does, but considering Nix is not around to do my bidding, I’m using my second option.”
He could find a solution to any problem.
“Right … I’ll get right on this, and let you know what we come up with.”
He nodded once. “Good night, Winter.”
She folded the photograph and tucked it into her pocket, reaching for the door handle when he spoke again.
“Is there a reason Syn hasn’t been returning my phone calls?”
Of all the things he could have asked her—and he’d asked for some sketchy things in the past—the very last thing she was expecting him to ask was that. “You’ve tried calling him?”
It was one thing not to answer her phone calls—it wouldn’t be the first time he hadn’t when he was in one of his moods and needed to come down—but it was something else entirely when he didn’t answer for the Kingmaker either.
“While he might have a bit more string on his leash than the others, it’s growing a bit thin all the same. Let him know he has seventy-two hours to get back to me or our agreement will be terminated.”
Winter thought of explaining her fears that something had happened to him, but a part of her didn’t think the Kingmaker would care. Instead, she silently got out of the car and walked back to Răzvan’s side, watching as the Kingmaker drove away and disappeared around the corner.
—Are you okay?—
She wished she could answer that and say yes.
She wished the only thing she needed to worry about was the picture in her pocket, but as she pulled her phone out, not realizing until that moment her hands were shaking, Winter knew her answer wouldn’t be what either of them wanted to hear.
“I think something happened to Syn.”
Chapter 8
For the second time in two days, Iris found herself seeking out Synek, this time watching him from an observation room cleverly hidden behind a two-way mirror.
The Wraiths rarely used the room—most preferring to see their violence up close and personal—so she was left undisturbed as she watched Synek’s torture continue.
Of all the people she’d seen enter this room, he was by far the strongest.
He was a bloody mess, rivulets running from wounds in his back, his torso a mess of bruises, but even kneeling on the ground, his head was still held high and that mask had yet to slip.
If they thought to break him, this wasn’t the way to do it.
Iris wasn’t sure how long she stood there watching, but knew that every time she watched a tool of pain whistle through the air, she had to close her eyes the moment before contact, unable to watch it happen.
Finally, after what had felt like hours, Rosalie waved for the men to leave the room. Only after she kissed the top of his head and he gave a half attempt at grabbing her as she laughed did she finally leave the room.
A moment passed as the door clicked shut, then another, and another, until gradually, Synek’s shoulders relaxed. The tension fled his body, and for just a moment, he allowed himself to take a proper breath.
At that moment, the chains were all that prevented him from hitting the dirty floor.
This, none of it, made sense.
She knew all too well what Rosalie did to traitors. Yet more than a week later, Synek was still here. And it wasn’t as if he was getting around-the-clock torture. She allowed him to rest for spells before she came back.
And even then, it wasn’t always torture.
Sometimes, she just talked. Other times, she watched him in silence.
But during each of those occasions, she always asked him one question.
Have you changed your mind?
Had he changed his mind about what?
The bigger mystery was why did she care?
Her presence here couldn’t be blamed on just curiosity alone anymore—she’d gotten everything she needed from Bear. There was just something about Synek.
She’d never been prone to reckless behavior before, but Iris still found herself slipping out of the observation room and into Synek’s cell. Surprisingly, there were no guards standing outside the door, nor any inside the room.
Just Synek.
What she was doing was stupid, reckless even, but all the same, Iris found herself taking a step forward.
Synek didn’t move besides the rise and fall of his chest until she was within a foot of him. When he looked up, his face was carefully blank—void of any emotion whatsoever. At least until he seemed to recognize her.
He didn’t lash out like he had the last time.
Just stared.
“Is it true?” she asked, finding that she needed an answer.
If she heard him say it, maybe then she would be able to walk away and leave him to his fate. She just needed to hear him say it. She needed to see the monster so many others did.
When he didn’t respond, she elaborated. “Is it true that you killed a little girl’s uncle right in front of her?”
An emotion flitted across his face, there and gone in seconds. “Is that what you’re concerned about? Whether I’m a killer?”
“I—”
“Because you already know the answer to that, don’t you?”
Iris couldn’t think of a response to that. She did already know the answer.
“Or is it about that, in particular, that has you in here? You letting things get personal, Iris?”
She tried not to react to the way he’d said her name. He hadn’t known it when they were at the Hall, but the way he said it now transported her back to that moment, if only for a second.
It was the rest that had her stiffening.
“It is personal for you. Who’d you lose? Mum? Uncle? Dad … ah, dad, was it?”
Her gaze shot up to his, unable to hide her surprise. She hadn’t said a word, hadn’t even looked at him, yet he knew. “Don’t pretend you know anything about me.”
Synek was smiling now, bloody teeth and all, as he carefully got to his feet, mindful of his many injuries. “I’d wager I do. See, they obviously didn’t tell you everything, did they? ’R else you wouldn’t be standing there trying to make yourself feel better. If you were smart, you would’ve gotten the fuck out of here when you had the chance, yet there you stand.”
This was a mistake—one she should never have made in the first place.
“So who did it then?” Synek asked as she turned to leave.
Just keep walking, she told herself, knowing that nothing good would come of this conversation if she let it continue.
“What was he into, your dad? Something shady, I imagine, if they sent someone like me after him.”
“You don’t know shit about him!”
The words burst free from her before Iris could contain them as she turned and glared at him, hating that he was smiling even wider now.
“Touched a nerve? Maybe he was innocent. Wrong place. Wrong time. Or maybe somebody just wanted the bastard dead. And you’re trying to make it right,” he guessed with a shake of his head. “Couldn’t avenge him so you’re championing for who? The Wraiths? Beautiful face, but not much more to you, is there? You can’t even think for yourself.”
Synek shook his head, though he appeared delighted that he’d gotten under her skin. “Never let a man know your weakness, or else he’ll use it against you. Have you forgotten your training?”
Iris didn’t respond—not because she didn’t want to, but because she feared what he could discern from whatever she said.
Rosalie wouldn’t break him, that much she realized just from their short conversation, and once she did, she realized Bear had been right.
Synek would get free.
But she didn’t plan on being around when it happene
d.
“Nothing?”
In twenty-four hours, Iris had yet to find anything on the mysterious man from the cafe anywhere. She was used to it taking a few hours to find a hit, sometimes even twelve, but never in all the years she had been doing this had her search come up with zero results.
She had started to believe she was merely chasing down a nosy diner, but after the search finished, she wasn’t so sure now.
Her time could have been better spent working through what she had on the governor, but something niggled at the back of her mind, refusing to let her focus on anything else. Her reluctance to give him up also stemmed from the fact he’d seen her.
It wasn’t as if she had been standing in the middle of the street staring up at the balcony, snapping photos of everything going on around her. She’d carefully concealed herself among the shade of the entry just to ensure no one would notice her.
Except he had.
Almost as if he’d known where to look.
But that didn’t seem possible. Her plan to trail Spader had been a last-minute one, so the likelihood of someone watching her was low. But then again, he could have seen her because he knew where to look. If he was familiar with surveillance, he might have recognized her optimal position.
So was he working for the governor and protecting his interests … or was he someone else?
Which was why, when Iris had run his picture through the NYPD’s facial recognition software and it brought back nothing, she’d called an old friend for help. Considering he was far more proficient with this sort of thing than she was, she figured he’d have better luck.
But with one phone call, he’d dashed her hopes.
“How could you not find anything?” she asked him, holding the phone to her ear with one hand as she repeated the search, even knowing it wouldn’t help. “This doesn’t make sense.”
“Shit, you’re telling me, but without a name, I won’t be able to get you anything else,” her hacker said apologetically. “I can tell you now, though, whoever he is, he’s got money.”
Iris looked back at the picture where it sat on top of her desk. “What makes you say that?”
“The suit he’s wearing? I know the designer—costs about twenty-five thousand itself. And his watch? There were only ever three made in the entire world.”
Then no, Iris suspected the man being there at the same cafe as the governor was no coincidence. But if he’d wanted to meet with him, why hadn’t he? There had been ample opportunity before Spader’s mistress had arrived.
“A guy like that always leaves a trail somewhere.”
When men had that sort of money to blow, they spent a lot of it, and never on just clothes. Hotel rooms, cars, houses, everything of the sort.
“Not this one,” he responded with some surprise in his voice. “Trust me when I say for all that I found on him, you’d be better off just going straight up to him and asking for his name. You won’t find anything on the dark web.”
Which wasn’t doing her any good. What was the likelihood she’d stumble across him again? For all she knew, this could have been a one-off thing, or worse, the mysterious man had met up with the governor while she had been more concerned with Synek.
Sighing, she accepted she wouldn’t ever find answers on him. “Thanks for trying.”
“Call me when you need me.”
Iris hung up.
Back to the governor then.
She grabbed the picture of the mystery man and carried it over to her wall. Picking up a thumbtack, she stuck it next to the surveillance shots she had on others.
As she stepped back, she was still pondering it and the rest of the photos when the doorbell rang, drawing her attention from the wall.
Rarely did she have neighbors come around, especially in this building, and never when she hadn’t explicitly invited them.
Staying light on her feet, Iris placed the standing curtain back in front of the wall to block the view of her work before she carefully moved over to her desk and slid the top drawer open, quietly pulling her gun out.
She held it at her back as she walked toward the door, keeping her finger off the trigger even as she kicked the hammer back with a press of her thumb.
“Who is it?”
“Winter!” someone called back, their voice high and oddly … friendly.
Iris peeked through the peephole, but only saw the top of two silver-colored buns of someone’s hair, but whoever it was, they seemed to be alone. Probably looking for a different apartment.
Wouldn’t be the first time that had happened.
“Who are you looking for?” Iris asked as she eased the door open.
But her question hung in the air unanswered as the door swung open harder and a man wearing a grisly sort of mask pointed an assault rifle at her face. She might have tried to take him on had the three others with him not simultaneously moved and quickly outnumbered her.
“Don’t worry,” the girl, Winter, said from behind them, her face serene. “We just want to talk.”
Iris stared down the men with guns, wondering if the fear skating through her was because of the guns they held or the masks they wore. “Yeah? Doesn’t look that way from where I’m standing.”
With the exception of Synek, she’d never started a conversation with someone using weapons.
“A bit unorthodox, granted, but it’s best not to take chances, ya know?” Winter said as she shut the door.
Iris found it odd that though the four in front of her were the ones with guns, Winter was doing all the talking.
The one in front gestured for her to sit. Seeing no other choice, Iris complied. “Who are you, and what do you want?”
“Considering how hard it was to find you, I feel like I should be asking you that,” Winter said as she stepped farther into her apartment, partially hidden behind the wall of testosterone.
Were they there to intimidate her or protect Winter?
“Anyway, the who isn’t really important. The why is a little more complicated.”
Iris could hear her searching through her things over by her desk, then the sound of her laptop being opened. After, she reached for the stack of memory cards Iris had yet to go through.
“You can’t take those!”
She was almost out of her chair, but a gloved hand landed hard on her shoulder, shoving her back down none too gently.
“I’m only interested in one thing in particular. Once I have it, you’re free to go back to whatever you were doing before we showed up.”
That clicked something on in her brain. “This is about that man, isn’t it? The one who was watching the governor.”
What were the odds that someone was seeking her out within a day of her search for him?
Winter laughed, actually laughed. “He gets a bit paranoid when his picture is being circulated.”
Jesus, did he have some sort of alert set up? “Who is he?”
“I’m not sure if I’m supposed to answer that.” She seemed to consider it a moment as she typed in a code on her laptop. “I guess I’d want to know too, though … They call him the Kingmaker.”
The what? “What kind of name is that?”
She sounded surprised by the question. “You haven’t heard of him?”
“Should I have?”
“He’s gonna love that,” she mumbled to herself though Iris heard her fine. “Maybe it’s better if you haven’t.”
Something about the girl seemed oddly … familiar, but there were plenty of girls with silver hair within a mile of her apartment.
“Do you only have digital copies?” Winter asked, standing behind the desk, even as Iris could hear her walking.
Figuring it was better to just get it over with, Iris shook her head, though the girl couldn’t see her. “On the wall.”
“See? Easy enough, right? And they thought you—”
Winter cut off abruptly, like the air had been stolen from her lungs. Whatever she’d been about to say was forgotten a
s she moved the curtain out of the way. On this, though, Iris wasn’t going to bend.
She refused to discuss the governor or why she had his picture on her wall.
But it wasn’t the governor’s picture she carried over as she shouldered past the masked men until she was standing in front of her.
It was the picture of Synek.
Iris looked at it a second before lifting her gaze to finally see who was in her apartment, then promptly did a double take. “You look just like her,” Iris muttered, unable to help herself.
Or was it the other way around?
Rosalie hadn’t always had silver hair, or dressed like she still had one foot firmly in the 90’s. Th change had come about rather recently.
Was it because of this girl that she had changed so much?
And as the puzzle pieces began to click in her brain, she remembered how disoriented Synek had looked as the drugs kicked in and he was stumbling over his feet. He’d looked up at Rosalie and had whispered something—something that hadn’t made sense at the time but now did.
“Winter,” he’d said.
He thought he’d been seeing this girl in front of him.
“Why do you have his picture?” Winter asked, and all traces of good humor were gone from her voice as she stared at Iris.
Whoever she was to Synek, it was clear she cared about him.
Regardless, Iris kept her mouth shut.
You never betray the Wraiths.
As tiny as she was, that didn’t seem to matter to Winter as she reached without looking for the handgun holstered at the biggest of the four’s waist and aimed it at Iris’s head.
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’ll ask you again. It was you at the Hall, right? You were the one he was talking to, which means you were the last one to see him. Tell me what happened, or I will shoot you.”
She meant every word of that, Iris knew, but if it was a choice between her and Rosalie and the Wraiths, she knew who the bigger threat was.
“Even if I could,” Iris said, feeling everyone’s attention come to her, “it wouldn’t matter. He’ll die before they ever let him go again.”
It wasn’t anger that lit up Winter’s features—it was sadness. A sadness so profound Iris didn’t quite understand it. How could she feel sorry for a man like him with everything he’d done?
Syn. Page 9
