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“Yeah, good idea,” Cole says, nodding to him as well. Then he turns to me. “I have to go in with her. You coming or staying?”

I bite my lip, humming a little, pretending to decide.

Cole smirks at me and turns, starting up the stairs. I grin and hurry after him, waving goodbye to Tommy and Shayne as they settle on the bottom step. I smile at the sight of them chatting softly and sitting close.

When Cole, Rose, and I step into the foyer, I look around in surprise because…it’snicein here. The living room has lots of furniture, much of it worn, but all of it very high quality. Andthe walls arecoveredin photographs – many of them old sepia prints of people standing close together, looking stern.

“Oh, this is all fantastic,” Rose murmurs, walking quickly to the center of the room and taking pictures of everything. “Do we have any information on who these people are, Cole?” Her flash lights the room in bits and pieces.

“We don’t,” he replies. “I think that my father hopes you can take the lead on that kind of genealogical research. You did that before, yes? With your article on my mother’s family?”

I raise my eyebrow at him.

“Yes!” Rose calls over her shoulder, moving into the dining room and continuing to take pictures like mad. “It would be helpful for me to have all these photographs, whenever the military can spare them!”

“An article on yourmom’s family?”

Cole smirks down at me. “Mom’s got nothing to hide.”

Everyone knows that the Queen has a fascinating and rather scandalous backstory – but I had no idea that Rose was one of the reporters who participated in breaking that story to the nation’s people. She just seems…incredibly young for such a job.

Damn, using her political connections to her advantage, isn’t she?

“But seriously,” I whisper, “you let yourgirlfriendwrite an exposé on yourmom?” I shake my head, thinking that was kind of a gross overstep of her boundaries.

Cole leans closer to me – close enough for me to see the green of his eyes in the dark. “I don’t tell my girlfriends what they can and can’t do.”

My thighs tighten, not letting me quail under the sheer power of this man.

“Unless,” he murmurs, his gaze slipping lower, “they want me to.”

My breath hitches a little as he stands straight and walks away, casual as anything, following after Rose as she steps into the next room.

I clench my teeth and swallow hard, pulling my damn self together before I stride after him a moment later. Stupid Cole, all tall and…bossy.

God damn it, he’s always throwing me off. I hate that.

Rose works methodically through the house, taking a picture of each room from every corner before taking what I suppose are more artistic shots. As she moves, murmuring notes into a tiny recorder she’s attached to the collar of her shirt, I have to admit that I’m impressed by her quick work and her focus.

She’s obviously a professional and obviously very good. Which is…annoying.

Cole and I quietly move behind Rose, me mostly looking around, him with his eyes moving over everything, ensuring our safety as we go. But as the military suggested, there doesn’t seem to be anyone here – not a single threat. As we move upstairs, I relax, allowing myself to be interested in the mystery of this place.

When we pass into what are clearly the more personal rooms of the house, my fascination grows. At the top of the stairs, we step into an office with a huge desk right at the center, scattered with the ashes of burned papers.

“Damn, that’s a shame,” Rose murmurs, taking pictures of whatever’s left.

“Yeah, Slaken burned what he couldn’t take,” Cole says with a sigh, leaning in the doorway. “Apparently, the desk was rigged with little cherry bombs that he triggered as he went – little tiny fires in every drawer. It was clever.”

I listen, but my eyes are drawn like magnets to the walls, which are lined with shelf after shelf of…trophies.

Just lines of trophies, and medals, and awards. Some of them are shockingly normal, including a Little League trophy from some baseball league up north. But others are…nonsense.

“David Slaken - Supreme Leader?” I whisper, stepping close to a gigantic silver cup perched in a place of honor on its own special shelf. “Awarded the World Peace Prize?” I look at Cole, my face twisted with confusion. “Whatisall this shit?Isthere such a thing as a World Peace Prize?”

“No,” Cole says, frowning and standing straighter at the door.

“Hmm?” Rose asks, skittering over, snapping more pics. I roll my eyes and step aside, letting her take the space as Cole walks over.