Baden rubbed the spot just above his heart. “You lost loved ones?”

For the first time in their acquaintance, there was a note of gentleness in his voice. A note she resented. Where had this softer side been as she’d begged him to let her search Alek’s homes?

“Katarina,” he prompted, still gentle.

“My dogs, the most precious fur babies ever born, are dead. Gone.” She didn’t even have pictures of them. The fire had destroyed physical copies, and Alek and Dominik had crashed her website. “They were murdered. And you are the man who prevented me from saving them. Does that please you and your beast?”

“No. I’m sorry, Katarina.” He crouched beside her and reached out, running a fingertip along the corner of her eye. Was he searching for a teardrop?

“Save your sorry and get out of my face, kretén.”

“Had I known—”

“Get out!”

He blanched, but stubborn bastard that he was, he remained in place.

The protective sheath around her heart suddenly cracked, all the rage, guilt and sorrow spewing out; the emotions became a gale force she couldn’t fight, destroying her.

She curled into a ball, shaking so forcefully her muscles soon gave out, her bones as limp as noodles. She hated anyone— especially this man—seeing her in such a helpless state, but she no longer cared to maintain a brave face.

“Katarina.” He reached for her again. “I need to—”

She rolled away, done with him, done with the conversation—done with life.

* * *

Besieged by helplessness, Baden plowed a hand through his hair. Katarina loved her dogs the way he loved his friends. All-encompassing. Never-ending. Nothing held back. He had no doubts about that. Even without a flood of tears, so much sadness and misery radiated from her, she rivaled Cameo.

In an attempt to save her dogs, Katarina had sacrificed her happiness and her future. And, during Baden’s short acquaintance with her, he’d repeatedly mocked her for it. He’d sneered at her and insulted her. His actions had even spurred Aleksander’s, leading to the untimely deaths of the animals.

She hated Aleksander, and she hated Baden. She had every right.

She’s just a means to an end. I don’t need her admiration.

But there was an ache in his chest now. One he couldn’t shake. He knew the horror of losing loved ones, of feeling as if you’d been dropped in the middle of an ocean during a turbulent storm, wave after wave crashing over you, rocks scraping you; again and again you swallowed too much water, but still you fought to breathe, to rise. The moment you breached the surface, hoping you were in the clear, you were swept under again.

How many centuries had passed before he’d stopped missing his friends? Trick question. He’d never stopped.

Far too vividly he remembered the centuries he’d been imprisoned, the rats his only friends. He’d adored those rats...had cried when he’d had to eat them to survive.

Survival before sentiment.

No, no. The rats...not Baden’s memory but Destruction’s.

With a grunt, Baden pulled at his hair. “You’ll be safe here, Katarina. You have my word.” He owed her, and he would pay his debt.

The beast began to utter a protest, only to quiet. The girl’s misery touched a chord in them both.

Silence met his pronouncement, somehow worse than a torrent of curses.

He’d brought Katarina to the fortress in Budapest. The other women would care for her, hopefully soothing her as they’d so often tried to soothe him; the men would guard her from any and every danger while Baden saw to Aleksander’s punishment. For killing the dogs, he would lose his eyes. To start.

Anticipation...

Suddenly the wreaths began to warm. Baden glanced down as a soft red glow pulsed from the metal.

Another summons from Hades.

Knowing what was coming, he raced to the door, shouting, “Maddox. Ashlyn. Anyone! Do not harm the—”

The fortress vanished, and the throne room materialized. Hades was nowhere to be seen. Nor was the siren. Instead, a black tornado swirled over the bottom step of the royal dais, a thousand screams assaulting Baden’s ears.

The tornado slowed...stopped, the wealth of black shadows thinning. Hades appeared in the center, standing over what might have been a body, the flesh and muscle picked off, the bone pitted. A bloody heart rested in his hand. He’d ditched the suit and tie in favor of a black T-shirt and leather pants, chains wrapped around both of his wrists.

From business formal to punk rock. The man was a chameleon.

Destruction played the quiet game, just as before, irritating Baden. “What do you want?”

Hades smiled, and there was blood on his teeth. “We’re just waiting on— Ah. There she is.”

A movement at Baden’s right. He twisted and came face-to-face with Pandora.

“You.” She scowled at him, her hair standing on end, her fangs beginning to grow. Claws extended from the ends of her nails.

Baden’s body expanded, preparing for battle.

“There will be no bloodshed in my throne room,” Hades announced. “Well, no more. Not today.”

His muscles locked onto his bones, preventing any kind of movement. The same freeze-frame clearly overtook Pandora, her expression strained as she fought the immobility.

Only when he made a conscious decision to stand down—won’t act, not here—did he gain his freedom.

“Now, then.” Hades stalked toward them. “You broke my only rule. You tried to kill my other slave.”

“You never said attempting to kill Baden was a problem,” Pandora replied. “Only that I’d be killed if I succeeded.”

How did he know of Pandora’s crime?

“Pippin.” Hades clapped his hands.

The white-robed man appeared in a puff of dark smoke. Like before, he clutched a stone tablet.

“Yes, sire.”

“What’s my only rule?”

“That there are no rules, sire.”

“And?” Hades prompted.

“And whatever else you decide, sire.”

“That’s right. Whatever else I decide.” Hades spread his arms, the very picture of smug masculinity. “I’ve decided even an attempt to kill each other is a punishable offense. You won’t be beheaded for it, even if you succeed, but you will be penalized—and wish I’d killed you instead.”