The dungeons were lit, and the path was clear.

The long-forgotten torch holders now burned with bright, powerful flames. Sconces, previously unnoticed in the dark, joined the torches, ensuring that the whole dungeon was free from the inky blackness. No more creeping shadows that concealed the bloodthirsty Moroaice.

All the cell doors, previously ajar, were locked. With their vision now unhindered in the winding passageways, the cells appeared vacant. Though upon closer inspection, one could see damage to the stone walls. Bricks and rock were knocked loose closer to the bottom of the various walls. They formed makeshift crawlspaces – just enough for one of the gangly creatures to slither through.

Yet none of the ghoulish servants came. They remained where they (presumably) were, tucked away into their nooks, and effectively locked behind cell doors. Considering that Bela was no longer producing her ghoul-be-gone pheromones, it led Ethan to assume that the Moroaice may have some sort of aversion to the light. Judging by how hollow and sunken their eyes were, it was possible they were sensitive to the new light flooding the dungeons.

Not worrying about being attacked meant that Ethan could focus on the route they took. The corridors looked different now that they were fully lit. Obviously, Ethan didn't have his maps out to follow along the path they traversed. Instead, he dug back into his memory banks. He'd predict a left turn, just before Bela would lead him down said left turn. He'd recall a right down a rounded hallway, only for Bela to lead them left – which meant he needed to study those maps more.

Bela gently pulled him along the winding passageways with her arm looped around his. It was – as she reiterated – a precaution. Just in case the Moroaice got out. Ethan was no longer a stranger to the close contact with Bela, so he didn't protest.

They had begun the walk in relative silence. It was about halfway through the labyrinthian dungeons when Ethan spoke up.

"I like what you've done with the place."

Bela snorted at his deadpan delivery. With amusement in her eyes, she replied, "Do you? I felt a change of décor was in order. Only the best for my favorite man-thing."

"Lucky me," Ethan muttered.

They crossed another passageway, this time a particularly familiar one. Ethan noted the discarded manacles on the floor – the pair he'd accidentally kicked yesterday. The cells on either side were heavily damaged from the brief scuffle. In the light, one could fully appreciate the sheer power that Bela possessed. Wrought iron bars were bent and deformed as if made of paper. It spoke of the force that Bela used when sending the Moroaice crashing into them.

Ethan hesitated to think of what would have become of him if he had opened the window yesterday and failed to hit the deck in time.

"We have not had a guest down here in a long time, especially not in your cell. It is situated quite deep within the dungeon." Bela's tone was conversational. Nonchalant. Always odd when compared to the subject matter – his captivity. "There has been little need to keep this wing of the dungeon lit. I figured it was about time the lighting was restored. You are going to be here for quite a while, after all."

Ethan tried not to deflate at that – at the reminder that Bela's plans for him were not short-term in the slightest. He tried to focus on the positive aspect of her actions. As he'd thought of earlier, this only meant that she planned on giving him more time outside his cell. If he were to be couped up all the time, there would be no need to light the path. He was getting more freedom of movement, and that was what mattered. It didn't matter that Bela stuck to his side like glue while doing so. Touring the castle with Bela only meant he would have more time to get through her walls – win more and more of her sympathy.

Probably obliterate his own walls in the process.

If that's what it took to survive and find Rose, then so be it.

Ethan finally responded to Bela. "Not sure if it's spookier now that I can see all the bloody torture racks and shackles, or when I couldn't see anything at all."

He caught Bela's side eyed glance and pre-empted her response. "Yeah, yeah – I do prefer the light. Don't snuff them out on my account."

Bela chuckled softly. "Yes, it does a wonderful job of dissuading the Moroaice as well."

That validated Ethan's earlier assumption. As long as he didn't get turned around down here – and that's what his map was for – then the dungeons were relatively safe to navigate.

Soon enough, the pair reached the end of the dungeon, splitting off with the kitchen stairs to the left, and the ornate banded wooden door on the right.

As casually as possible, Ethan asked, "Where does that door lead?"

Bela followed Ethan's gaze to the door, adorned with her family crest. Her sharp eyes returned to his, studying him for a beat. She spoke with a knowing tone, "I think you are aware of where that door leads, little one."

Ethan suppressed the tingling shiver at the back of his neck. Bela read him too goddamn well. That, or his poker face was absolutely garbage.

"Why bunk down here in the dungeons?" Ethan shrugged slightly. "Isn't there some fancier room in the main castle?"

Bela turned to face Ethan better, slightly adjusting the arm snaked around his. She wore an amused frown on her features. "And you think I do not have a fancy room down here?"

Gesturing to the cells they just passed, Ethan huffed softly. "Bela, this place has more torture racks and shackles than a bondage party. I can't imagine finding a luxurious room in this dungeon."

It earned a laugh and a roll of the eyes from Bela, before she continued leading him along to the stairs. "Perhaps I will give you a tour of my quarters some other time."

"Wow. Looking forward to it." Ethan's sarcasm earned a gentle but pointed nudge in the ribs.

They traversed the stairs and arrived in the pantry once more. No homely scents of cooking meals greeted them this time around. Instead, there was the smell of harsh soap which filled the air. In the kitchen, they found the servants cleaning up the aftermath of their breakfast preparations. Ethan counted four servants.

A familiar bracelet rattled on the wrist of one servant as she scrubbed at some cookware. That was Zoria.

"Madame Bela," Came the greeting of who could only be Tatyana. The taller, authoritative figure bowed her head in their direction. Despite the veil obscuring her features, Ethan could feel Tatyana's gaze on him, and the arms which he and Bela still had interlocked.

They must have made for an odd sight.

"Tatyana." Bela nodded back.

Ethan gave a slight nod of his own in the attempt to be polite.

Within moments, they crossed the room and made their way to the dining room. Ethan felt the briefest apprehension prickle over his skin when they entered the room. It looked a little different this time around. No more tarp to prevent debris from dirtying the carpet and furniture. The fireplace roared with life, and the morning sun shined in through the windows. The door trim looked as good as new.

It appeared Ethan wasn't the only one to be given pause by being back in this room. Bela had stopped as well, eyes sticking to the windows for several long seconds. Her focus eventually returned to Ethan. A nearly imperceptible crease marred her brow, and her lips were parted in the slightest in the image of uncertainty – like there was a word or two on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't get them out.

That was behind them now. If they wanted this to work, then it had to be. Ethan couldn't get her walls down if their stand-off hung over them like a rain cloud.

Each step in Bela's favor put him a step closer to Rose.

In an attempt at reassurance, his hand landed over Bela's forearm. Her skin was soft but prickled with goosebumps – likely at the apprehension of being by the window once more. Ethan gave her a gentle squeeze. "C'mon. Let's keep moving."

Bela cleared her throat. "Right."

Ethan's hand fell back to his side, and Bela escorted them through the door to the main hall.

The grand hall was a sight to behold, to say the least. Polished tiles of cream and black formed intricate patterns, sweeping across the floor; they came to the center of the hall to form a star – or perhaps an elaborate compass. Hovering above the center of the room was a grandiose chandelier. It worked to light up the space with the assistance of a standing candelabra here or there, and the crackling fireplace to the left. Suits of gothic armor guarded the fireplace on either side. Some furniture decorated the space as well – a few fine armchairs and loveseats, and ornately carved tables to match.

A meticulously designed wooden staircase spiraled its way up to the second floor, but Ethan figured he wasn't heading that way for a while.

Bela hardly noticed the ogling Ethan was doing of the finer details of the grand hall. She continued pulling him along and across the threshold. Ethan just barely had time to glance at a closed door to the left, close to the fireplace. They made their way down to yet another great hall, this time more familiar to Ethan.

The carpeted stairway dulled the thump of their steps as they entered the space. The white marble floor was polished and cleaned of the blood Ethan had splattered onto it days prior. Four vaguely angelic statues stood by the doorway at the far end – which Ethan assumed led outside, judging by the windows on the second floor.

He recognized the doorway to the right. That was where the sisters had dragged him through to meet Lady Dimitrescu. A passageway to the left led to parts unknown – probably looping back towards that door in the main hall. The closed door next to it was, Ethan assumed, their destination for the day.

True enough, Bela tugged Ethan along towards the ornate door. With a push, it swung open, revealing the Duke's shop.

It was a rather small room – perhaps made smaller by the Duke's sizeable presence. The potent smell of cigar smoke permeated the air and clung to the dark green wallpaper patterned onto the walls. A carpet took up the center of the polished wooden floor. Some shelves lined the walls, while the Duke occupied the back portion of the room. Numerous candelabras cast a warm glow on the jovial man's features. He looked just as Ethan had last seen him. A small table – once more, perhaps only appearing small due to the contrast of the man's size – took up the space in front of the Duke. Papers, a strongbox, and miscellaneous writing instruments cluttered the surface.

Towards the far right side of the room, Ethan could make out a scale model of a castle – this castle, probably. There was a red glimmer from the metal casing below the castle. It reflected the light of a nearby oil lamp.

"Ah! Lady Bela, it is wonderful to see you again!" The Duke's warm eyes went from Bela's face, to their tangled arms, and then to Ethan. With a wide grin, he added, "And Mr. Winters – we meet again! I trust you are in good health?"

"Good morning, Duke," Bela returned the greeting with a smile.

Ethan eyed the large man a little warily. While their first meeting had been amicable enough, it still set Ethan on edge to be referred to by name by a man he'd never met before – all the more when he'd just finished running from his life from all those lycans.

Yet, Ethan's gut told him to pull back. The Duke appeared harmless enough. If anything, he was one of the few to offer him help in any way or form.

"Healthy enough, yeah." Ethan nodded.

With one hand on a cigar and the other set on the armrest of his large chair, the Duke spoke up, "Lady Bela, I am most pleased to inform you that the castle model has arrived. The rest of your delivery should arrive within the coming week." He gave a sympathetic frown to add, "I do apologize for the delay. The inclement weather and the…" He cleared his throat, "Unfortunate condition of the surrounding villages – they have slowed down the supply chain."

"No worries. It's murder out there, I'm sure."

The rather morbid humor got a sharp laugh out of the Duke, who fondly pointed his cigar at Bela. "It's murder out there. Too true, Lady Bela."

Ethan grimaced. The fact the Duke used villages – plural – was concerning. That village Ethan fought his way through wasn't the only one hit by the lycans, apparently. It was a wonder how those stragglers Bela mentioned were faring.

Not wishing to dwell on it for the moment, Ethan asked, "What delivery?"

The Duke acknowledged Ethan's question with a gentle hum, but then turned his gaze to Bela. When she remained silent, the Duke did as well, instead taking a drag of his cigar.

"It's a surprise." Bela winked. She gave Ethan's arm a brief squeeze before finally pulling away from his side. She crossed the room, moving towards the scale replica of the castle. Over her shoulder, Bela told him, "Peruse the Duke's wares, Ethan. Take your time. We are in no rush."

With that, Ethan stepped up towards the Duke's table. A little awkwardly, he greeted once more, "Hey."

"Hello there, Mr. Winters." His eyes fell to Ethan's sweater. "I am thrilled to see the sweater suits you! Lady Daniela certainly has an eye for fashion!"

Ethan glared down at the text on his sweater.

I (HEART) MY SMART AND HOT ROMANIAN GIRLFRIEND

"Yeah, about that…" Ethan shot a dirty look at Bela, who giggled at his expense while inspecting the castle. "Do you have any other clothes on you? Hopefully something without dumb shit like this?"

"You came to the right place, my friend!" The Duke grinned. With a grunt, he shifted his great torso to reach behind him. The seat beneath him strained and creaked a concerning amount. The Duke turned back with his pudgy hand carrying a large stack of clothing, tied together with twine string.

"Are you looking for something warm? Maybe something cooler?" The Duke asked as he snipped the twine and began spreading the folded clothes out on the table. "Do you prefer these muted colors? You don't strike me as the type to wear tie-dye, but we have that in the back as well."

Wearing tie-dye in this hellhole was the last thing on Ethan's mind.

Ethan focused on the assortment of clothes before him – varying shades of grey, beige, black, or the occasional blue or green. Sweaters, t-shirts, hoodies of all designs littered the pile. Jeans and joggers composed the majority for the Duke's selection of pants. Underwear and socks joined the clothing catalog in no shortage either. Interestingly enough, everything was in Ethan's size.

You are going to be here for quite a while, after all.

There was a sense of resignation to buying clothes for his stay here. It spoke to the longevity of his captivity – like he was accepting that he was a rat in a cage.

But what was the alternative? Make a run for it while Bela was eyeing that castle? Get tackled to the ground within seconds?

This was the game he decided to play, and he needed to stick to that decision.

At least the extra clothes would make him feel more human and less like a trapped animal.

Ethan began sifting through the clothing, picking several pieces out. Even with the limited activity – door repair and Moroaice defense aside – Ethan was beginning to feel grimy. He wasn't sure how to go about getting a bath in this place, but having a fresh change of clothes would go a long way for now. The socks were truly welcome as well. The pair he'd been wearing felt too thin against the chilly stone floor, especially in the evenings.

As the minutes ticked by, Ethan had accrued a decent pile of clothes to take with him to his cell. He had to make the most of this shopping session since there was no telling when he'd see the Duke next. "You got any pens, pencils?"

"But of course, Mr. Winters! I am nothing, if not well-stocked." The Duke reached down to tug a drawer open. He produced an assortment of fancy looking pens and professional pencils. After a pause, a simple black book joined the pile. He laid his large hand on the book's dark cover and gave Ethan a meaningful look. "I'll even throw that journal in for free."

Ethan eyed the Duke with a healthy dose of suspicion. He'd easily worked through half of his journal last night after all the map sketching. If Ethan kept at that rate, he would fill all the pages within a week's time. This spare journal was just what he needed.

"Sure. Thanks."

"It is my pleasure, Mr. Winters. Do you require anything else?" The Duke rested his hand on his sizeable belly.

With a short chuckle, Ethan asked, "I don't suppose you could sell me lockpicks and some C4?"

The Duke heartily laughed right back. With a sigh, he answered, "Unfortunately, Mr. Winters, doing so may void the understanding I have with the most gracious Dimitrescu family."

"Yeah," Ethan sighed, even though he hadn't actually expected an affirmative. "Figured as much."

A nudge in his ribs signaled Bela's arrival at his side. She shot him a glare of her own, but her voice lacked the venom as she quipped, "In a hurry to break out so soon, Ethan? And to think, we were just starting to get to know each other."

Ethan was just as quick to fire back, "Yeah, with how clingy you're getting, I need those lockpicks to get away for some breathing room of my own."

Bela's eyes widened by a degree, brows raising slightly, lips just barely parted. She released a harsh exhale and shook her head. She avoided his gaze and crossed her arms over her chest. His eyes may have been playing tricks on him, but Ethan could swear there was a faint pinkness to Bela's pale cheeks.

The blood-sucking bug girl was flustered. Now Ethan had truly seen everything.

In a clear change in topic, Bela addressed the Duke, who wore a wide grin as the exchange unfolded. "Do you have the rest of my order?"

"Certainly, Lady Bela." The hefty man bent down with a grunt. He retrieved a bundle of books tied together with twine, followed by a small box. "Everything should be in order."

Ethan watched Bela run a thumb over the spines of each book. A quick study of their titles revealed an assortment of biology books with a common theme: mold and fungi.

Perhaps their discussion of the mold the other day restarted her interest in the subject. It was probably a matter of time now before Bela made the connection that he was rather moldy himself. Not that it would change much between them. Or at least – Ethan didn't think it would.

"What's in the box?" Ethan asked.

On cue, Bela unlatched the wooden box. She took a small step to the side to give Ethan a peek within.

"Specimen slides," Bela answered.

"Meticulously and carefully gathered from our wolfish friends in the region," The Duke added.

Bela hummed in agreement and explained, "I have a small personal research project in mind. I believe it is long overdue that I return to my in-depth study of the mold around us."

Ethan shook his head and ran a finger along the edge of the box. He had little to contribute to the topic (without revealing his own moldy background), and so he muttered, "You're such a nerd, Bela."

The box shut with a sharp thud, nearly slamming on his finger. Ethan recoiled, pulling his poor hand in and out of reach. Bela slid the box closer to her purchase pile along with the books. Her eyes narrowed his way, but she didn't answer his barb.

Ethan was tempted to give her more shit – rile her up for the fun of it. He refrained for the time being. She was, after all, paying for all of this. The last thing he needed was to be given the boot – or the heel, to be exact – without finishing the purchase.

On the other hand, this was, Ethan reminded himself, his captor buying simple basic goods for him. She wouldn't need to buy him anything if she hadn't locked him up to begin with. He was well within his right to give her shit.

He still resisted, in the end. As fun as it was to egg on Bela, he needed the spare clothes she was buying for him.

"That would complete your order, Lady Bela. What about you, Mr. Winters?" The Duke waved his cigar as he spoke, "May I get you anything else?"

Ethan had a decent rotation of clothes picked out. The pens, pencils, and new journal would do the job for some time. He craned his head, peering over the Duke's shoulder to see what other stock he had at the back. There was a glimpse of a toothbrush in plastic packaging.

Well – better to stay hygienic.

"Yeah, could I get a toothbrush and some toothpaste?"

"Of course, my friend."

Ethan would need some water in his cell. In a pinch, maybe some water from his meals would do. A glance at Bela, and her previous irritation appeared to have simmered away. It looked as though she caught his thinking, because she suggested, "I can make arrangements for a bucket of water?"

If he got desperate, he could use that and some piece of cloth to wipe himself clean, too.

"Yeah – that works." Ethan nodded. "Thanks."

As the Duke strained to reach the toiletries, Ethan caught sight of a razor on the shelf below. His hand came up to feel his growing stubble. It was pretty cold down in the dungeons, so there was no harm in letting his facial hair prickle out freely. Besides, it was unlikely that Bela would allow him to have a blade of any sort on him.

The requested toothbrush and toothpaste combo were set down onto Ethan's pile. A tug at his sleeve and Ethan turned his attention to Bela. She had a little smile on her face, and pointed over the Duke's shoulder. "Look, Ethan. A mug just for you."

Ethan took a step to the side – closer to Bela – to get a look, and he saw it. It was a simple white mug. The text was printed in a bold, black font.

#1 Dad

Ethan's heart skipped a beat. It was followed by the turning of his stomach. The conflicting guilt wormed around inside him, and he scoffed harshly. The words came out before he could reel them in. "Some fucking dad I am. Can't even protect my wife or my daughter."

He grit his teeth. His hands balled into tight fists at his sides. "I couldn't stop Chris from taking Rose, and now I can't even get her back from this goddamn castle."

"On the contrary, Mr. Winters, working on getting Rosemary back is precisely what you are doing, is it not?"

Ethan avoided the Duke's gaze, as encouraging and far too knowing as his words may have been. He should be out there looking for Rose – actively and not sitting by and playing the long game. What kind of father was he? He should be stopping at nothing to find her. He shouldn't at all be dissuaded by the danger the Dimitrescu daughters posed. They were just another group of bugs to be stomped out after being blasted with a little cold.

And then Bela's hand landed on his shoulder. Her touch was gentle. Tentative.

"Ethan." She spoke softly.

She was just as guilty as her mother, Chris, and every other asshole involved with Mia's death and Rose's kidnapping. Being the nicest culprit didn't absolve her of her sins.

In the stillness of the room, Ethan could hear Bela take an uneasy breath – as if she were steeling herself.

Her other hand landed on his arm. She brought it up and down in slow strokes.

"I will not insult you by pretending that we are on the same side. I will not deny that Rosemary is in our possession." Bela paused long enough for Ethan to finally turn his head her way. Golden eyes were fixed to his shoulder as she spoke. "My family has wronged you. I know this."

With a gulp, Bela flitted her eyes his way once, before snapping back to his shoulder. "But what we have done does not invalidate your worth as a father. You are no less of a man because my family took your daughter."

"You slew droves of Mother Miranda's minions in the quest to find her." She wore a small smile as she added, "You gave me your blood, just to know more about her whereabouts. If none of that is a testimony of the love you have for your daughter, I don't know what is."

The tension eased from his shoulders with each stroke of Bela's thumb. His fists uncurled as her hand continued its lazy trail up and down his arm.

"You are a wonderful father, Ethan. I know it." Bela bit on her bottom lip for a second. "Little Rose is the only thing keeping you going, isn't it?"

Ethan breathed out a shaky sigh. The flare of anger had fizzled away. In its place was a hollowness in his chest. "Yeah."

They were right, in a way. Bela's – and the Duke's – words held truth. The long game wasn't cowardice or an intentional lack of action. It was a tactical and strategic decision on his part. He was severely outclassed in this castle. While he didn't doubt that Bela wouldn't hurt him, he was sure that, if push came to shove, she would if he tried to escape. Just as he would hurt her if he absolutely needed to.

Her sisters wouldn't be as gentle, either. They would hunt him down mercilessly if he went on the run.

Biding his time wasn't inaction. It was being smart. As Chris – that motherfucker – had taught him: slow is smooth; smooth is fast.

Everything he'd done thus far was out of the need to find Rose again. The Duke was correct – even though it was a little unsettling how clearly and concisely the man appeared to have deduced that. Bela hadn't reacted to the Duke's statement, but that seemed to be because she was too wrapped up in Ethan's distress and frustration.

There shouldn't have been such comfort in Bela's words. Yet there it was anyway.

That was a constant with Bela, it seemed. Every single damn thing he didn't expect to find – or expected to find the opposite – Bela would just subvert his expectations.

In the dead hours of the last night, in between nightmares and his useless attempts at chronicling them – Ethan felt awful. He was useless, helpless, and powerless. There were the moments he tried to make himself feel better – tell himself that he couldn't carry all the weight of Rose's kidnapping and Mia's death on his shoulders. He was just a man. He couldn't do everything. He couldn't save everyone in the blink of an eye. It was the perpetrators' faults that his family was torn asunder. Not his.

His heart would have none of it. The ache would persist, and the guilt would continue to fester within him.

Hearing Bela telling him essentially the same thing – he could almost believe it. He could almost feel that he wasn't responsible for his life falling to shit once more.

Ethan crossed his hand over to his shoulder, to settle atop Bela's. Amber eyes looked up at him from beneath lashes in an almost timid manner.

He didn't hold her hand and lock their fingers – no, no, that was far too… affectionate of a gesture. Awkwardly, he gave her a pat and a squeeze.

Bela's cheeks warmed with a pink glow regardless.

"Thanks, Bela."

The sentiment was replied with a beautiful smile from Bela.

A quiet, somewhat delighted hum reminded Ethan that the Duke was still right in front of them. He watched them with a gleeful grin. Clearing his throat, Ethan added, "You too, Duke. Thanks."

"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Winters!" The Duke jovially asked, "Shall I add the mug to your bill?"

With an encouraging squeeze of his shoulder, Bela told him, "Add it."

"Sure," Ethan chuckled. "Why not?"

"Excellent!" The Duke strained to reach behind him and then set the mug down on the table.

"That'll hold a lot of coffee, hm?" Bela whispered.

"Yeah," Ethan huffed softly in amusement. Trying his luck, he added, "You're gonna need to take me out more often so I can walk off the caffeine buzz."

Bela's gorgeous smile was beginning to grow on Ethan. "That can be arranged."

His skin tingled beneath his sleeves with the way Bela continued tracing unseen patterns on his arm. He glanced down at her hand, prompting Bela to do the same.

She peeled away from him – as if suddenly conscious of the close contact. Her hands fidgeted at her sides for a second before she clasped them together in front of her.

They were adults for fuck's sake.

They were a captive and a captor.

They stood on two opposite sides, with his daughter hanging in the balance.

Physical contact – especially meant as simple encouragement – shouldn't be making them flustered.

Ethan was already fairly sure he was losing his fucking mind. Maybe Bela was starting to lose hers too.

It was Ethan's turn to change the topic – rather than dissect how they were reacting to one another.

"So, what's with that castle thing." He pointed at the scale model.

"This castle thing," Bela stepped away and towards the model. "Is an exact scale replica of Castle Dimitrescu."

A lightbulb went off in Ethan's head. "Inside and out?"

Bela held Ethan's gaze for a beat, as if sensing his intent to get a lay of the land. "No, actually"

Damn.

"It is not a dollhouse that cuts away to reveal the different floors, if that is what you were wondering." Bela put a hand on her hip, returning her eyes to the intricate castle. "The focus of this replica is the façade and exterior of the castle."

Ethan took his time admiring the replica as well. It was a damn good model, that was for sure. The towers were meticulously sculpted, down to each crenelation and arrow slit. The tiles on the roofs were textured down to each individual piece. The trees and the grass – a healthy green – gave an idea of what the castle looked like in the summer.

"I got this as a gift for Mother, actually," Bela admitted. "An expensive one, at that."

The Duke hummed his agreement and chimed in, "A price for the expert craftsmanship, and the crimson skull locked within."

Ethan followed their gazes to the metal enclosure fixed to the bottom of the replica. A crystal skull, the color of bloody crimson, rested behind the hardy bars.

"If you two can unlock it and trade me the skull, I would happily deduct it from your total bill." The Duke offered with a wave of his cigar.

Bela snapped her fingers together and groaned softly. "I forgot the sphere in my room." She was already crossing the space with quick steps. With a hand on the door leading out, she added. "I will be back shortly. Duke, please keep an eye on my guest."

"With pleasure, Lady Bela!"

She was gone before Ethan could process her sudden departure, leaving him alone with the Duke.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Be sure to hit those fave and follow buttons if you haven't yet, and leave me a review to let me know how you found this chapter. This, and the next chapter, were some of my favorites to write so far. And now, Ethan is alone with the Duke - what cryptic advice could he have in store for our dear Mr. Winters?

I'm excited to have shared this chapter with you all, and am just as eager to share the next in the coming weekend. We're getting into some interesting territory now with Bela and Ethan getting quite comfy with one another.

I feel like I had more author's notes to include in this one, but they escape me at the moment. They'll probably come up when I respond to your reviews (which I plan to finally do more consistently moving forward) over the week. Looking forward to hearing from you fellas as usual. Have a great week ahead!