I reach Gorev’s office. Another thumb scan and I’m inside. I make myself at home. Immediately I begin to flip through his drawers. In the first one I find cigarettes, a fancy metal lighter, and a bottle of 186 proof whiskey.

A man’s most important professional items are those closest at hand. Alexei’s are his vices. He’s not a man plagued by his demons; he’s ruled by them. It actually makes me more curious about the Beast. What his motives are for getting involved in treason when he’s just about as high up as one can be?

Then again, in the king’s world, all roads lead back to greed.

I pocket the lighter and uncap the whiskey, taking a swig as I continue to peruse the traitor’s office. I almost choke on the stuff. My eyes tear up as it burns its way down.

I glance at the label again. This stuff isn’t alcohol; this is lighter fluid.

I find nothing else of interest in the office. Gorev is less careless than Goldstein when it comes to leaving damnable breadcrumbs.

I kick my legs up on the desk, and then I wait.

When the Beast walks in, I’m playing with fire.

I flick Alexei’s lighter open and closed. Open. Closed. Open. Closed.

He stops.

My gaze is focused on the fire. “Do you know why I’m here?” I ask.

Alexei steps into the room and closes the door behind him. He leans back against it. No one in the WUN would be so stupid as to lock themselves in a room with the person they were betraying. When you live amongst casual violence, you never underestimate people. Not even a young, dying queen.

Especially not a young, dying queen.

But perhaps the infamous Beast of the East sees me as just another meek woman.

“You wanted to speak with me?” he says, one side of his mouth curving up. His eyes fall on the bottle of whiskey.

My mouth curves upward as well. “You’re good, I’ll give you that. Even when you know that I know.”

He tenses, and it’s the signal I need. Grabbing the 186 proof alcohol, I saunter around the desk. I stop in front of him.

He has no idea what I’m going to do next.

I tilt whiskey bottle to read the label better. “You know, what it really comes down to is this: you killed my child.”

My eyes flick up to him, and before he has a chance to react, I backhand him with the bottle. Glass shatters against his cheekbone, and the force of the impact throws him to the ground. The alcohol soaks his face and his hair, and it drips down his neck and seeps onto his chest.

The Beast cradles his injured cheek as blood drips between his fingers. I must’ve cut him with the jagged edge I still hold. I drop it to the ground and smash it with my boot.

Then, ever so slowly, I stroll towards him.

He’s drenched in whiskey and glass shards, and he’s losing his calm facade as he crawls away from me.

“The attacks on my life—those I could’ve forgiven. The attacks on Montes’s—well, you know my history. But you involve an innocent?” I kick him onto his back and flick open the lighter I still hold. “That’ll bring out the sadist in me.”

Now I’m seeing this hateful man’s fear. Wrapped up in it is anger and incredulity. I’d like to think that last one has to do with my gender.

I hold the lighter over him. “Just how fast do you think you’ll go up in flame?”

The cocky man who entered his office is gone. Alexei keeps swallowing, and I think he’s desperately trying to hold back vomit.

“There’s alcohol on you,” he says. “If you drop that on me, I’ll make sure you catch fire as well.”

I flash him an indulgent smile. “You think I’m scared of death? Goldstein’s been informing you on my health. You know how advanced my cancer is,” I say. “The king can’t stop it. I might be squandering … oh, a few months if you do manage to kill me. But you know just as well as I do that with cancer, the final months are the worst.

“You, on the other hand,” I continue conversationally, “probably have decades left.” My gaze moves back to the flame. “I’ve heard death by fire is the worst way to go.”

I let him see my eyes. My empty, empty eyes. I am the result of a life of loss. This is what happens when you live through every fear you’ve ever owned.

“Please,” he says.

“Please what?”

“I don’t want to die.”

I stare down at him. My hand is practically shaking from the need to drop the lighter on his body and see him go up in flame. Vengeance is whispering in my ear, and it’s such a seductive lover.

“Who else?” I ask.

He’s looking at me with confusion.

“Who else is in on it?” I doubt his word is any good, but every once in a while someone squeals who’s actually telling the truth the first time around.

He opens his mouth, but before he has a chance to talk, we both hear footfalls approaching the door.

“This could end very badly for you depending on who enters,” I say.

Several seconds later the door bursts open. I shouldn’t be surprised when I see Montes, but I am. Sometimes I forget just how resourceful my husband is. And this time, he’s come alone.

His eyes take in the scene. He’s seen me kill, but this is the first time he’s ever seen me truly cruel.

“Do it,” he says.

My eyes move back to Alexei. He knows he’s a dead man.

“I’ll tell you everything, just please don’t kill me.”