There was something about sitting in the dark that Lena found unsettling. The barbaric bestia of the past could roam free and the quiet solitude was oppressive, constricting the flow of air to her lungs. Or perhaps that was the dress she wore. The black dress she wore could have given the red-silk one a run for its money. Little King didn't like it, but then he didn't like anything about the plan.

"You don't have to do this, Lena. We can find someone else or find a different way," he said.

"Not this late we can't," one of the agents nearby said as they wired Daniels' flat.

Little King eyed the agent hatefully and Lena saw his arm twitch. She lay a steadying hand on his arm as she pulled his jacket around her shoulders a little more.

"You are certain he is the rat?" she asked.

Little King took a deep breath and nodded. "Sì. It's him."

"Then I can do this. I need to do this. I will make him squeal like a rat in a trap."

Little King's lip twitched into a mild smile.

"Sto bene," she continued. "And you will be just beyond the door with sword in hand."

Little King nodded. "At the first sign of trouble, I will be here."

"I know."

"That covers it," the anent in charge said. "Everyone clear out. Bellariu, you're on."

Lena nodded and slowly slid Little King's jacket off her shoulders, ignoring the looks the other agents gave her."

Little King and the other agents had only been gone for a few minutes, but in the dark it felt like hours. Lena was given a small electric torch but she'd been warned not to use it much so she wouldn't alert Daniels to her presence. She reached in the dark for the glass of wine Little King had left for her. There was another empty glass as well as the whole bottle of wine; she was to offer Daniels a glass. The last thing she wanted to do was offer Daniels anything, but she knew she'd have to end up offering him everything.

She squirmed on the countertop and tried to adjust her dress. The counter may not have been the most comfortable place to sit and wait—the hard edges were digging into the back of her thighs—but it was the most advantageous. Sitting on the counter put things at eye level and since Daniels was taller than Little King, he would still be able to look down her neckline for an unhindered view if he chose to do so, and he would—all men did. Also, when she crossed her legs, the split in her dress came mid-way up her stocking-less thigh. Lena was going to use every trick in her arsenal to make Daniels squeal.

Lena took another sip of wine, her hand shaking slightly. As the lock in the door clicked, she quickly banished all traces of fear from her mind. There was a bit of shuffling around in the dark and the light was blinding. Lena didn't flinch, even as a bag was dropped and some glass shattered. She heard the clicking of a loaded gun being pointed in her direction. She finished off her glass of wine calmly.

"So nice of you to join me."

"Bellariu," Daniels said, surprise and suspicion lacing his voice. "What an... unexpected surprise."

"But with any luck, it will not be an unsatisfactory one." She turned her head to look at him and caught his eyes staring at her chest. He quickly looked away, scanning the room for Little King. The gun, however, remained aimed in her direction.

"Where is Pevensie?" he asked.

Lena silently looked across the room to a closed door. She knew the agents were listening to every word and wouldn't see the silent communication. As Daniels made his way to the door, Lena poured herself another glass of wine.

Daniels stood to the side of the door before quickly pushing it open. Then, gun ready, he gave a thorough investigation of the room, sweeping his arms side to side, only to find it was empty. Behind the door he found a torn and bloodied shirt.

"Dead," Lena said calmly, swirling the wine in her glass.

"Dead?" Daniels questioned, leaving the room with the shirt in hand and the gun hanging at his side. Lena didn't let her satisfaction show; she was already less of a threat. "Pevensie is dead?"

Lena nodded and took a sip.

"Have you reported it?"

"I'm reporting it now."

"This is a terrible loss," he said unconvincingly.

"Is it? This is what you wanted after all."

"I don't know what you mean. I never wanted this."

Lena laughed. "You disappoint if you think me so easily swayed by pretty words."

Daniels dropped the shirt on the floor and set the gun on a small table as he slowly began to approach her.

"What happened in Kursk?"

Lena gave a half-smile as she looked at him over the rim of her glass. "I brought a man's deepest desires to fruition. The look on his face when he got everything he desired was almost enough to make me come undone." Lena felt a tightening in her gut as she thought of the look on Little King's face as he came undone.

Daniels' eyes dropped to the exposed skin of her thigh where they lingered before rising to her chest. "You slept with him then?"

"There wasn't much sleeping involved, but it was a night he was surely never to forget." She grinned and took another sip. "Before his untimely death."

"Yes. How did that happen?" The first bit of anger laced his voice.

Lena made a great show of annoyance, even allowing an eye-roll. "Pevensie intervened. He thought he was the only one who could touch me like that. Jealousy is so unbecoming."

"That meddlesome fool. Dimitri was useful."

"He was an idiota," she said with more irritation than necessary. She drank to cover it. "And he was a writer."

"A writer?"

Lena let two of her fingers dip into the crevice of her dress slowly, allowing time for his eyes to track their movement—which they did. She produced a folded piece of paper and held it out in such a way that Daniels was forced to step closer in order to take it. His eyes lingered on her chest for a while before taking the bait.

"Where did you get this?" he asked after reading it quickly.

"Where do you think?" she replied.

Daniels quickly looked around as though expecting someone to jump out and ambush him. "Who else has seen this?"

"Pevensie did... before he too died."

"And you are certain he is dead?"

"Quite."

Daniels took out a match and burned the evidence. Lena didn't volunteer the fact that it was only a copy. "There is more where that came from," she said.

"Where?"

She laughed. "I'd be as big an idiota if I told you that."

"What do you want?"

Instead of answering, she reached around for the bottle of wine and poured them both a glass. "I want to toast to this new... companionship we find ourselves in."

He looked at the cup she offered. "You must think me the idiot."

"It's not poisoned. I swear it on my honor." On her honor? She was starting to sound like Little King now.

"What honor would that be?"

Lena had the urge to break the bottle of wine over his head, but that would have been a waste of semi-good wine. So, instead, she took a hearty sip from each cup and offered it to him once more. Again, he simply stared at it.

"I'm more of a bourbon fan."

"That is because you've never tasted wine like mine." Lena subtly shifted her leg allowing the dress to fall open a little more. Daniels noticed and his eyes were drawn to the newly exposed skin of her knee. He slowly, almost hesitantly, placed his hand on it. He traced a circle on her leg before stepping in closer.

"An acquired taste, I'm sure," he said, taking another dig at her.

Lena held her smile and refrained from wasting the wine on him again. Finally, he took the offered glass and they drank together.

He kept his eyes on hers and his hand slowly slid up her thigh; she let her hands snake around his waist and under his jacket. His hand slid past the split and under her dress. It continued to slide up her leg until he found her hidden holster. He quirked an eyebrow—not nearly as well as Little King could—and pulled the holser out and the knife along with it.

"What do we have here?" he asked. She could practically hear Little King swearing in the room across the hall where he was waiting and listening with the others as Daniels removed her only weapon.

Lena simply shrugged. She had expected him to find the holster. "A girl in my line of work needs a reasonable line of defense."

"Are there any more surprises hidden under that dress I should be aware of?"

"Nothing quite like this." She removed his own hidden holster and gun and tossed it out of reach.

"Perhaps I better check, just to be sure."

He grabbed her other leg and wrapped it around his waist. His hand slid up the inside of her dress again and came to rest on her other thigh.

"Satisfied?" she asked in a breathy whisper when he found no other hidden weapons.

"I'm getting closer."

Lena could tell.

"How did Pevensie die? Was it quick?"

Why a man would ask about death while he had the legs of a woman wrapped around his waist, Lena would never understand. "Not quick enough," she replied.

"Tell me about it. I want the details." He tugged on her hips, sliding her closer to him. His hands continued to run over her thighs beneath her dress as she spoke.

"He had a thing for knives. He thought himself a proper swordsman. So it was only fitting that he died by his weapon of choice." Lena and Little King had agreed that when it came up, as they knew it would, Lena should stick to a story she knew well instead of trying to make something up. The Polkovnik's death was something she would never forget.

"I struck him here," she continued as she let her fingers gently caress the tender flesh at the nape of Daniels' neck. "There was blood everywhere. I can still hear the gurgling sound he made as he choked on his own blood. His eyes still haunt mine when I close them."

"He was your first?" Daniels asked; Lena nodded, her face a few shades paler, but Daniels didn't notice. "It gets easier. Do it enough and you even begin to develop a taste for it."

Lena was startled by that. Daniels' line of thinking was vastly different from Little King's. Little King said he regretted each kill he had to make and wished there had been some other way, and he still prayed for each soul he took. This stark difference jolted Lena back to the task at hand.

"I must admit, I am not easily surprised by a woman, but you have surprised me, Bellariu," Daniels said.

"That is because most men are idioti who do not think a woman can be their equal."

"Perhaps. But perhaps it is because you were so adamant against sleeping with Dimitri." His hands squeezed a bit harder on the inside of her thigh; she hid the pain with a gasp of pleasure.

"A show, for Pevensie's sake only," she said, her voice breathy. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back as though she enjoyed his touch and had to concentrate. "He believed me to be more virtuous than I am."

"Virtuous? You? Then he was a bigger fool than I took him for. Still, I never thought you would be the one to kill him for me. Why did you turn on him?"

"I have been to every man what they wanted me to be, and I am tired of playing men's games. I am ready to take control of my own life." To prove her point she snapped her head up and pulled him closer with her legs. As she unbuttoned his shirt she left a trail of kisses behind. She could feel his body give in; it was time to finish this show.

"Your turn. Tell me, why would you betray your King and country?" she asked between her kisses.

"I don't think we need to get into that right now," he said as his hand found its way to her breast. She really wished her body wouldn't respond the way it did to his touch. She pushed him back but kept him trapped between her legs.

"Speak or this stops here."

He seemed to debate it heavily before reaching for her again. "He is no King of mine." His touches became more deliberate as he continued. "My English father beat me as a child. My mother let him. But Gran... Gran was a proper woman. Gran was Russian."

Lena resumed her work. She kissed on his neck and his chest as her hands moved into the waistline of his trousers. All the while, Daniels continued to talk.