"You fucking piece of shit!" Tabby hissed, baring her teeth, pressing the dagger more firmly against Steiner's flesh, daring him to prove her right. "It's you, isn't it?! Light! How did I miss it?!"

With a single, swift movement, he grabbed her wrists and flung her around, locking her arms behind her. Pain laced through her leg. Her wounds screamed. She cried out, shuddering. The room swam in and out of focus.

Steiner's hand splayed across her stomach, drawing her against him. She realized she was shaking, from anger, from pain, from the loss of blood. He moved in a way that the Steiner she knew shouldn't be capable of. But this wasn't the Steiner she knew, was it?

"Tabby, Tabby, Tabby." His voice was a gentle caress against her ear. "So easy to manipulate. All it took was some rather good acting on my part."

It took every bit of strength, but she slammed the heel of her boot into his toes and freed herself. He didn't fight back, didn't bother coming after her as she flung herself across the room to glare at him.

"You'd better get that leg taken care of before you pass out," was all he said. Calm. Collected. The complete opposite of what she felt raging inside her.

She stood, chest heaving. Every breath was an effort. Something sailed through the air. Her reactions were slow as she watched it. A lump of white prism landed on the floor beside her, nearly as large as her fist. She blinked down at it, not quite believing. "I'd rather you not drop dead in my study," he added.

It was massive, bigger than she could have imagined any white prism might be.

Sneering, she stepped up beside it and lifted her hand, pulling light from where she stood. Warmth spread through her leg as her skin began to absorb what it needed to heal. She gasped with relief. As soon as she removed the tourniquet, bullet shards fell to the floor and her skin closed up. She fixed her other wounds next. Her breathing returned to normal.

When she finished, she picked up the prism, looked it over, and tossed it to him. Flung it at him, more like, hoping it would slam him in the face. "You lied to me."

"Lied?" He reached out and caught it, effortless, his movements quick and precise, before slipping it into his pocket. "No. I simply didn't give you everything."

"But I drove a dagger through your ribs. You—you just let me kill you."

"I don't feel very dead." He looked down at himself, making a show of it. "I don't look very dead, either."

She took deep breaths, suppressing her rage. "You know exactly what I mean."

He shrugged and strode to his desk, moving so much more like a Spect than she had ever seen him, like he'd shed all pretenses and no longer cared. There wasn't a shred of clumsiness in his actions. The Steiner she knew didn't exist—never had. She shook her head, still struggling. "You played me. Used me. Was this all a ploy to test my loyalty to the Spectrum? To corner me? Do you even know the identity of my father? Or were you lying about that, too?"

"I know exactly who your father is." He challenged her with his gaze, waited for her to contradict him. She didn't. So he continued. "What I am—who I am—changes nothing. We proceed forward as planned. Look at it this way, you've got one fewer council member to hunt down and torture."

"Fucking prick!" She hissed, resisting the urge to lunge for him. Instead, she clenched and unclenched her fists. Control. He'd controlled her. Manipulated her, just like the Spectrum. She still held a dagger in her other hand. She considered how quickly she might burry it in his neck.

"Put it away," he drawled, eying the blade, reading her intentions easily enough.

"I liked the old Steiner better," she spat. The old Steiner made her feel powerful, impressive. This one just made her feel small—because of what he was, more than anything.

He sighed and took a seat, motioning for her to do the same. She hesitated. There was nothing telling her she had to do this. She could leave. She could walk out right this minute. Flee Chroma. Leave Steiner to the wolves. He was one, after all.

He waited, patiently watching her.

Her jaw clenched, pain shooting through her skull. Forcing her limbs to comply, she sat, but watched him warily. If he wanted to play games, fine. She'd play games.

"Truthfully, I wondered how long it would take you," he said at last, eying her over steepled fingers. "What gave me away?"

A sound of derision slipped from her lips. "Before your little show at the precinct? Your mannerisms. And earlier tonight, your eyes." She glanced at his hands. "That stupid thing you do with your thumb."

The corner of his mouth turned up. "We all have our flaws. Honestly, I had hoped you would figure it out sooner. I took no pleasure in hiding the truth"—she snorted—"but you can understand why I did. I needed to trust you. Should the Spectrum capture you, I needed to know my name wouldn't tumble from your lips while they shattered you. I didn't earn a full mask by playing a loose game."

"They might still capture me."

"Let us hope that does not happen." If it did, he wouldn't bother coming for her. No one would.

She shook her head, still trying to digest everything. "You let me kill you," she said at last, still unable to come to terms with it. "You didn't even defend yourself." Never mind the fact that he could clearly use white light too, just like her. She wasn't the only one keeping big secrets from the Spectrum. Everything she knew, or thought she knew, was flipped upside-down.

"Yes, rather impressive, isn't it?"

She ignored his cockiness. "What if you had died that night?! Then what?"

He shrugged.

She stared at him a moment longer and it all came crashing down. "You did the one thing I wouldn't expect. The one thing that went against my core beliefs."

"Figured it out, have you?" He lifted his brows. "You once told me that a Spect values self-preservation above all else, and you were right. But I'm not like other Spects. Neither are you, for that matter."

She slumped back against her chair, not sure that was true. She'd done plenty to stay alive, and would continue. "You didn't even fight me. You just...just laid there, dying, clawing at the couch."

"To play my part convincingly, I had to accepted death. It was the price I was willing to pay in hopes of your allegiance. I wouldn't have done it had I not spent years watching you."

"But you didn't know about my ability with white light, did you? You didn't know I would save you."

"I had a strong hunch based on something Elias mistakenly let slip, but no, I wasn't entirely certain. Call it a pleasant surprise." His smile was wicked. She hated his handsome face all the more, for its beauty and the lethal brutality lurking behind it. "Are you impressed?" he asked. "I hope you are. That was some of my very best work. Perhaps better than anything I've ever done."

"Now you sound more like Steiner." She narrowed her eyes. "Can you heal with it? The white light?"

He hesitated. "Believe it or not—no. I envy you for that."

"You're...not lying."

"I'm not lying. I've tried once or twice, to heal a few scratches and scrapes. No success."

Her brow furrowed. "But, you used it in the precinct. To create a flash of some sort."

"Correct. Nifty little trick. I stunned everyone in the room except you, obviously, with your violet protection. I couldn't protect you from the glare of it, unfortunately, which likely blinded you for a bit. But it was enough to give you the upper hand."

She shook her head. "I thought the Spectrum had come for me," she murmured, realizing now how relieved she was that they hadn't. This revelation was the missing puzzle piece. She thought back over everything that had happened. It all made sense. "That's how you acquired so much money and a title."

"Death pays well. I've had my fill of it."

"The others—they don't know you're Lord Steiner?"

"They do not. Those who are clever enough believe Deadlock is Carver Terell."

Her eyes widened. "Your...your butler?!"

"Brilliant, right? I've done a good job covering my tracks. Power has made the rest of them careless."

"And your master?"

"Ah. Dead. I killed him about a year after my three quarter mask. He was the only one still living who knew me as Conrad Steiner. I mistakenly let my birth name slip and there would be no forgetting that—not for him."

"So...Steiner is your true name, then?"

He nodded. "I trust you will protect it well."

She swallowed, wavering between furious and impressed. "You have my respect," she murmured at last, giving him the two finger solute. And she meant it. He'd played her. He'd played her well. Regardless of her anger, of the sense of betrayal, she was willing to admit it. That didn't mean she had to like it.

"Thank you." He nodded. "I'm not sure there's any other Spect willing to die for something they believe in."

"Clora." She said the name without thinking. "Clora died for what she believed in." He cocked his head, a question on his face. "Don't ask," she added.

He nodded. "You should get some sleep. You'll be safe here. I've got a guest room down the hall. Come."

Her anger was melting into fatigue. There was plenty of time to be angry later. She hesitated before she stood, looking at the bags of confiscated contraband she'd reclaimed. "Can you keep an eye on those?"

"Not a problem." He escorted her to a guest room. She waited, watching from the darkened hall as he moved about preparing it for her. He could have asked Carver to do it, but instead, he went about lighting the wall sconces, coaxing a blazing fire into the grate, checking the drapes, looking out the windows onto the street below, going over everything, even turning down the comforter. The longer she stood watching him, the more her body dripped with absolute exhaustion. She remained motionless, studying his movements, his caution. Every effort was calculated and deft, exactly what she would expect from a Spect.

Nit zoomed in past her, fluttering about until they found a comfortable perch on the wardrobe. "I'll keep watch tonight," Nit said, saying nothing of Steiner's betrayal.

"There." Steiner stepped out into the darkened hall, shadowed in the glowing warmth that poured from the open door. "You'll be comfortable here. It's a suite, you know. There's a bathtub in the room there. Plumbing, hot water, all that." He motioned with his head to the open door in the corner. She shifted, glancing into the room beyond. "I know, impressive isn't it?"

"Fancy little lord," she cooed, hoping to strike a nerve. His eyes flashed with something. She didn't bother to see what, stepping around him, desperate for a hot bath.

"Tabby, wait—" He caught hold of her arm. She flinched, but didn't shrug him off. His touch was surprisingly gentle. "Thank you."

She frowned. "For what?"

"For going after Elias. I..." His throat bobbed. "I meant what I said before. He's a good friend of mine. I don't have many, as I'm sure you can imagine."

She nodded, swallowing against the dryness in her throat. "I couldn't stand the idea of...of what they might do to him."

"Nor could I." He sighed. "There are things we need to discuss, your new marks, Midnight, Prince Albert Whitlock. Things are moving quickly now—quicker than I anticipated."

She opened her mouth, then closed it, her exhaustion laying heavy on her shoulders. She hadn't even told him everything that had happened earlier in East End. Had it only been just that morning? "I tortured Waste today," she managed. The words came out flat.

He tensed. "I figured as much, when he did not appear tonight. How..." He moved closer—almost too close—keeping hold of her arm as he searched her eyes. "How did it go?"

She hesitated. "Can we talk about it in the morning?" She hated the sound of her voice, so weak. Pathetically weak.

His gaze darted over her features, assessing, snagging on her mouth. She ignored the scrutiny. "Yes, yes of course. I'll be here, when you wake. Take as long as you need."

Had she been in a better state, his show of tender consideration would have left her suspicious. For now, she cared about nothing other than sleep. Sleep and a hot bath.

When she closed the door behind her, she leaned against it for several minutes, trying to collect herself. "I'm afraid if I step into the bath, I'll fall asleep the moment I touch the hot water."

"I'll keep you from that," said Nit.

She thanked her mechanimal and went to the copper tub, admiring it. The water was indeed hot, and exactly what her muscles needed. She discarded her bloody clothes in a heap, scrubbed the blood from her aching body, then crawled into bed naked. It was more comfortable than any bed was allowed to be. How did one manage to rise every morning from something so heavenly?

A deep sleep took her, and for once, it was dreamless.

Nit woke her well after the sun was up. Her mind was fuzzy, but she stumbled from the bed. A pile of clothes sat folded on a chair beside the wardrobe, a note stuck to the top.

She recognized Steiner's scrolling writing. He must have snuck in. The thought of him passing through her room without her waking sent chills down her spine. Nit hadn't bothered to wake her either—probably eager for her to get as much sleep as possible.

Tabby—

I hope you don't mind. I took the liberty of visiting Elias's shop. I found these in your wardrobe there. And no, before you ask, I didn't go through your things. We can have the others laundered, though they looked quite a mess, there might be no saving them.

-Lord S

She eyed the stack—a complete outfit—and smiled. A deep inhale told her there was coffee somewhere. The scent coaxed her to hurry. Right on cue, her stomach grumbled. She rushed through dressing, placed her weapons into hidden pockets, attached her belt, and set the remainder of her drained items on the window sill to take in the blaring sunlight with the drapes pulled back. Then she emerged from her room and descended the grand staircase, wandering through the townhouse in search of Deadlock.