“How’d it go?”

Ruhn stood before Flynn and Dec, his friends sitting on the sectional with too-innocent smiles. Ithan sat on Dec’s other side—and his wary face tipped Ruhn off.

“I’m wondering if I should ask you three the same thing,” Ruhn said, arching a brow.

“Well, you’re alive, and not captured,” Dec said, tucking his hands behind his head and leaning back against the couch. “I’m assuming it went

… well?”

“Let’s leave it at that,” Ruhn said. He’d fill them in later. When he was a little less exhausted and a little less worried about those innocent expressions.

“Good, great, fantastic,” Flynn said, leaping to his feet. “So, you know how you’re always saying that it’s pretty sexist that we don’t have any female roommates …”

“I’ve never said tha—”

Flynn gestured to the foyer behind him. “Well, here you go.”

Ruhn blinked as three fire sprites zoomed in, landing on Flynn’s broad shoulders. A full-bodied one cuddled up against his neck, smiling.

“Meet the triplets,” Flynn said. “Rithi, Sasa, and Malana.”

The taller of the slender ones—Sasa—batted her eyelashes at Ruhn. “Prince.”

“Our insurance rates will go sky-high,” Ruhn said to Declan, appealing to the slightly-less-insane of his roommates.

“When the fuck did you become a grown-up?” Flynn barked.

Ithan jerked his chin toward the doorway again. “Wait to have your meltdown until after you meet the fourth new roommate.”

A short, curvy female walked in, her wavy black hair nearly down to her waist. Most of her tan skin was hidden by the plaid blanket wrapped around her naked body. But her eyes—burning Solas. They were bloodred. Glowing like embers.

“Ariadne, meet Ruhn,” Flynn crooned. “Ruhn, meet Ariadne.”

She held Ruhn’s stare, and he stilled as he caught a glimmer of something molten course beneath the skin of her forearm, making her flesh look like … scales.

Ruhn whirled on Dec and Flynn. “I was gone for a day! Sunrise to sunrise! And I come back to a dragon? Where did she come from?”

Dec and Flynn, the three sprites with them, pointed to Ithan. The wolf winced.

Ruhn glanced back at the dragon, at the hand clutching the blanket around her. The slight hint of the brand on her wrist. He studied the sprites.

“Please tell me they’re at least here legally,” Ruhn said quietly. “Nope,” Flynn said cheerfully.

Hunt had two options: start shouting or start laughing. He hadn’t decided which one he wanted to do as they walked down a narrow hallway of the most lethal warehouse in the Meat Market, aiming for the door at the far end. The blank-faced Fae guards at the door didn’t so much as blink. If they knew who Bryce was to them, they gave no sign.

“How’d you figure it out?” Bryce’s brows bunched. She hadn’t denied it on the flight over here. That she’d somehow gotten Emile to the Viper Queen. And Hunt had been too fucking pissed to ask any questions.

So fucking pissed that it had driven away any lingering lust from last night.

Hunt said under his breath, “I told you. You’re not as slick as you think. The way you got so tense with Pippa talking about snakes was a dead giveaway.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t Pippa killing those people to track Emile, was it?”

Bryce winced. “No. It was the Viper Queen’s henchmen. Well, henchwoman. She sent one of her human lackeys—some merc—to hunt him down. Hence the female human scent.”

“And you were fine with this? Not simply killing those people, but framing Pippa?” Granted, Pippa was awful, but … Something crumpled in his chest.

Was this any different from his time with Shahar? Falling for a beautiful, powerful female—only to have her hide her innermost thoughts

—

“No,” Bryce said, paling. She halted ten feet from the guards. Touched Hunt’s arm. “I wasn’t fine with that part at all.” Her throat bobbed. “I told her to find him by any means necessary. I didn’t realize it’d entail … that.”

“That was a stupid fucking thing to do,” Hunt snarled, and immediately hated himself for the bruised look that came into her eyes. But he continued toward the door, pulling out of her grip.

The guards wordlessly let them enter the lushly appointed apartment. Definitely a far cry from her ramshackle office levels below. A foyer of carved wood flowed ahead, the crimson rug leading toward a large sitting room with a massive, floor-to-ceiling interior window overlooking the Viper Queen’s notorious fighting pit.

Bryce murmured coldly as they aimed for the sitting room, “I’m not letting this poor kid fall into anyone’s hands. Even Cormac’s.”

“So that night we came here with Juniper and Fury—was Emile here already?”

“The Viper Queen was supposed to have apprehended him by that point. But then Tharion told us about the dead selkie, and it was clear she hadn’t yet found him. So I came here to see what the Hel had happened, and to inform her that leaving a trail of bodies … that was not what I had intended. When I walked past the guards after we separated to search, I might have muttered a few questions for them to convey to their queen. And they might have had one of their undercover guards come up to me at the butcher where I bought the meat for Syrinx and tell me that the kid was still at large, and they’d last seen him near the Black Dock. Which made me doubt everything I’d assumed about him coming here, and I knew that I just

… I needed to go to the Bone Quarter to make sure he wasn’t there. While the Viper Queen kept searching. But apparently either she or her

henchwoman ignored my demand to stop the killing, and added a few more to the list before they grabbed Emile.”

“So coming here that night was a big waste of time?”

She shook her head. “No. I also needed everyone to think I was looking for Emile, and that we’d cleared this space, so if the Viper Queen did manage to get him, no one would come here again. And I needed you and Fury with me so that the Viper Queen would remember who would come fuck her up if she hurt the kid in the process.”

That queen now stood before them, a slim female in a neon-green silk jumpsuit beside a large, plush couch. Her glossy black bob reflected the golden flames from the fireplace to her right. And seated on the couch before her, small and thin and wide-eyed, was a boy.

“Come to collect your package or make more threats about Athalar cooking me alive?” the Viper Queen asked, puffing on a cigarette between her purple-painted lips.

“Nice sneakers” was all Bryce said, gesturing to the snake shifter’s white-and-gold high-tops. But Bryce offered Emile a gentle smile. “Hey, Emile. I’m Bryce.”

The boy said nothing. Rather, he looked up at the Viper Queen, who drawled, “Red’s the one who got you here. Ignore the angel. He’s all bark, no bite.”

“Oh, he likes to bite,” Bryce murmured, but Hunt was in no mood to laugh. Or even smile. He said to the Viper Queen, power sparking in his veins, “Don’t think for one moment that I’ll ever forget how you screwed me over that night with Micah. Vik’s suffering and Justinian’s death are on you.”

The queen had the audacity to look down at herself, as if searching for guilt.

But before Hunt could contemplate roasting her, Emile squeaked, “Hi.” He was just a kid, alone and afraid. The thought doused any lightning in

Hunt’s veins.

Bryce nodded at the Viper Queen. “I’d like a moment with Emile, please.” It was a command. From a princess to another ruler.

The Viper Queen’s slitted pupils widened—with amusement or predatory intent, Hunt didn’t know. But she said, “Emile, holler if you need

anything.” She sauntered down an ornate, wood-paneled hallway and vanished through a door.

Bryce plopped onto the couch beside Emile and said, “So what’s up?” The boy—and Hunt—blinked at her.

Emile said quietly, “My sister’s dead, isn’t she?”

Bryce’s face softened, and Hunt said, “Yeah. She is. We’re so sorry.” Emile gazed at his pale, bony hands. “The Vipe said you were looking,

but … I knew.” Hunt scanned the boy for any hint of that thunderbird gift. Any hint of a magic able to harvest and transform power to his will.

Bryce put a hand on Emile’s shoulder. “Your sister was a badass. A brave, brilliant badass.”

Emile offered a wobbly smile. Gods, the boy was scrawny. Way too thin for his lanky frame. If this was how thin he remained after a few weeks outside the death camp’s barbed-wire fences … This boy had seen and endured things that no child—no person—should face.

Shame flooded Hunt, and he sat down beside Bryce.

No wonder she’d worked alone to arrange this—none of the rest of them had really stopped to think about the kid himself. Just his power, and what it might mean if the wrong person got hold of it.

Hunt tried to catch her eye, to show her that he understood, and he didn’t hold any of this against her, but she kept her focus on the boy.

Bryce said quietly, “I lost a sister, too. Two years ago. It was hard, and you never stop feeling the loss, but … you learn to live with it. I’m not going to tell you time heals all wounds, because for some people it doesn’t.” Hunt’s heart strained at the pain in her voice, even now. “But I get it. What you’re feeling.”

Emile said nothing. Hunt suppressed the urge to gather both of them in his arms and hug them tightly.

“And look,” Bryce went on, “no matter what the Viper Queen says to you, don’t take her threats too seriously. She’s a psycho, but she’s not a kid killer.”

“Real reassuring,” Hunt muttered. Bryce scowled at him. “It’s true.”

But Hunt knew why the Viper Queen wouldn’t have harmed the kid. He turned to the fighting pit beyond the window. It was dim and quiet now, too

early in the day for the fights that drew hundreds—and made millions—for the snake shifter.

Alarm flared. Hunt blurted, “You didn’t sign any contracts with her, right?”

“Why would she want me to sign anything?” Emile said, toeing the carpet.

Hunt said quietly, “Thunderbirds are insanely rare. A lot of people would want that power.” He extended a hand toward Emile, and lightning wreathed his fingers, wending between them. “I’m not a thunderbird,” Hunt said, “but I’ve got a similar gift. Made me, ah … valuable.” He tapped the branded-out slave’s mark on his wrist. “Not in any way that counts, deep down, but it made certain people willing to do a lot of bad things to attain me.” The Viper Queen would kill—had killed—to own that power.

Emile’s eyes widened at the lightning. Like he was seeing Hunt for the first time. “Sofie said something like that about her power once. That it didn’t change who she was inside.”

Hunt melted a bit at the trust in the kid’s face. “It didn’t. And your power doesn’t, either.”

Emile glanced between them. Then down the hall. “What power?”

Hunt slowly, slowly turned to Bryce. Her face revealed nothing. “Your

… thunderbird power? The power that downed those Omega-boats?” The kid’s face shuttered. “That was Sofie.”

Bryce lifted her chin in challenge. “Emile doesn’t have any powers, Hunt.”

Hunt looked like she’d dumped a bucket of ice water on him.

“What do you mean?” he asked, voice low. He didn’t wait for her to reply before he pushed, “How do you know, Bryce?”

“I didn’t know for sure,” Bryce said. The small, scared boy now cringed away from the angel. She continued, “But I figured it was a good possibility. The only thing Vanir care about is power. The only way to get them to care about a human boy was to spin a story about him having powers like Sofie’s. The only way to make sure he got to safety was to craft a lie about him being valuable. I had a feeling Sofie knew that all too well.”

She added with a soft smile to the boy, “Emile was—is valuable. To Sofie. To his family. As all loved ones are.”

Hunt blinked. Blinked again. Anger—and fear—warred in his eyes. He whispered, “Does the Viper Queen know this?”

Bryce didn’t hide her disdain. “She never asked.” Bryce had been sure to word the bargain between them very carefully, so Emile could walk out of here whenever he wished.

Hunt’s lightning writhed across his brow. “Any protection she’s offering this kid will vanish the moment she knows.” His gaze shifted to Emile, who watched the lightning not in fear, but with sorrow. The lightning immediately vanished. Hunt rubbed his face. Then said to Bryce, “You did all of this on a guess?”

“Sofie was part-human. Like me.” Cormac himself had said they were alike. She explained as gently as she could, “You’ve never spent a moment of your life as a human, Hunt. You always had value to Vanir. You just said so yourself.”

His wings rustled. “And what was the Vipe’s asking price?”

“She’d retrieve Emile, hold him here—in comfort and safety—until I came to pick him up. And in return, I’d owe her a favor.”

“That was reckless,” he said through his teeth.

“It’s not like I have piles of gold lying around.” This wasn’t the time or place for this fight. “You can have your alphahole fit later,” she seethed.

“Fine,” Hunt shot back. He leaned forward to address the boy, that thunderous expression easing. “Sorry, Emile. I’m glad you’re safe, however insanely Bryce acted to make that happen. You game to answer a few questions?”

Emile nodded shallowly. Bryce braced herself.

Hunt gave Bryce another dirty look before he said, “How did you keep the Viper Queen from knowing you don’t have any power?”

Emile shrugged. “When she talked about fights and stuff, I didn’t answer. I think she thought I was scared.”

“Good call,” Bryce said. But Hunt cut in, “Were you originally heading to this city to find some sort of meeting place that you and your sister had agreed on beforehand?”

Emile nodded again. “We were supposed to meet here, actually.” Hunt murmured, “A place where the weary souls find relief …”

Bryce explained, “The Meat Market is drug central. I figured if Danika had suggested it as a hiding spot, then she might have thought the Viper Queen would be … amenable to helping them out. Turns out Danika was right.”

Emile added, “The Vipe’s agent picked me up before I could make it to the city proper. She said it wasn’t safe anywhere but with them.”

“It wasn’t,” Bryce said, smiling gently, “but now you’re safe with us.”

Well, at least they could agree on that. Hunt asked, “Did your sister ever mention anything secret about the Asteri? Anything super valuable to the rebels?”

Emile considered, brow scrunching. “No.”

Bryce blew out a heavy breath. It had been a long shot anyway.

Emile wrung his fingers. “But … I do recognize that name. Danika. She was the wolf, right?”

Bryce went still. “You knew Danika?”

Emile shook his head. “No, but Sofie told me about her the night we separated. The blond wolf, who died a couple years ago. With the purple and pink streaks in her hair.”