Lyla and Deborah were the first to rush to Winter as soon as she stepped inside. Their eyes brimmed with alarm, scanning her for blood or bruises.
"I'm fine," Winter said, forcing a faint smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. The gown she still wore shimmered faintly under the dim light, a ghost of the socialite she had pretended to be.
Across the room, Louisa swiveled lazily in her chair, her boots propped on the edge of her station. "You should've let me come with you," she drawled. "Would've been easier just gunning that Major General down."
Craig, perched on the arm of a sofa like a brooding old man, muttered dully. "And then spark a full blown chaos in the middle of the city."
Louisa smirked without looking his way. "Still smarter than hiding behind a cabbie disguise."
Their words clashed like old iron, jagged, familiar. Ever since their two-month whirlwind relationship had crashed and burned, they both couldn't exchange air without barbs.
Winter tuned them out. She unclasped the emerald ring and pressed the small flash drive into Benjamin's waiting hand. His face lit up instantly, boyish and unguarded, as though she'd just handed him buried treasure.
"Finally," Benjamin murmured, already sliding into his seat, cables and code waiting like hungry snakes.
"Come on, let's get this thing cracked," Deborah said, settling beside him, fingers hovering over her own keyboard.
Behind them, Craig stood up tiredly and dragged Raymond's limp body across the floor like a sack of flour. His jewelry clinked with each bump. Lyla trailed anxiously behind, wringing her hands.
"Honestly," Craig muttered, hauling him into the inner room, "you'd think someone who loves velvet jackets this much would at least know how to stay conscious after just one hit."
Two hours bled away in silence, broken only by Benjamin's furious keystrokes, Deborah's low mutters, and the occasional clink of Louisa's spoon as she dug into her pudding before inevitably slumping sideways and dozing off.
Winter stood the whole time, motionless behind them, her hands folded tight across her chest. Her eyes never left the screen waiting, waiting for the gem in the drive.
Finally, Benjamin's fingers froze. The screen blinked, a door unlocking.
His grin returned. "We're in." He lifted his bowl of melting ice cream like a trophy and shoveled a triumphant spoonful into his mouth.
The others gathered instantly, forming a huddle around the monitors. Louisa blinked awake just enough to shuffle over, hair sticking out, muttering something about smells.
And then silence.
The files opened. Line after line scrolled.
Not blueprints. Not battle orders.
Cutlery requisitions. Kitchenware lists. Dinner knives, soup ladles, bulk quantities of silver spoons.
Benjamin's smile wilted.
"Wow." Louisa yawned, rubbing her eyes. "Guess the military eats better than us. Fantastic. Wake me up when we're raiding their dessert stash." She shuffled back to her chair, curled up, and slipped instantly into sleep again.
No one laughed.
The room's air grew heavy. The tension didn't burst, it simply drained, leaving the team hollow. Their mission, their risk, Winter's near-death escape, all for nothing.
Winter's expression didn't change, but something inside her cracked. Without a word, she turned and walked to the inner quarters, each step quieter than the last.
Her room was dark. She collapsed onto the bed without changing, still wrapped in the silk gown, and pulled Uncle Giggles into her arms.
Curled tight against the cold, she pressed her face into its faded fur. The phantom weight of Axel's knee lingered on her back. The echo of his smirk lingered in her mind.
And though the city outside roared with nightlife, Winter drifted into silence, clutching the only softness she had left.