A groan rasped from his throat, and he drove into me. Pleasure rose through me in a wave, sweeping out from my center and overtaking my entire body. I quaked, gasping, moaning, no idea what sort of noise I was making because I couldn’t think, drowning in the tides of bliss flooding through me.

Finally, the waves of pleasure softened into a shivery warmth. Ezra leaned into me, half holding me, half pinning me to the wall as he caught his breath, his face pressed against the side of my neck.

I combed my fingers through his drenched hair. My hands were trembling.

“Holy shit,” I gasped almost soundlessly.

He must’ve heard that even over the rushing noise of the shower because his shoulders moved with a silent laugh. He straightened and I let my feet drop to the floor. Too unsteady to take all my weight, I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he pulled me with him under the hot spray of the shower.

I brushed a curly lock off his forehead. “Ezra.”

For an instant, just the barest instant, the words I wanted to say stuck in my throat. They’d always been so hard to utter out loud—but I’d never needed to say them more.

“I love you,” I whispered.

His fingers traced the edge of my jaw. Leaning down, he softly pressed his lips to mine.

“I love you too,” he murmured against my lips. “And I want to love you for the rest of my hopefully long life, if that’s what you want.”

A quiet tremor shook me. I’d never been good at planning for the future. I rarely knew what I wanted next week, let alone next year. My long-term goals had once consisted of “not getting fired,” and more recently, “not dying.” For most of my life, I hadn’t had a clue what I wanted.

Closing my eyes, I kissed him hard, fingers tangling in his hair.

“Yes,” I breathed. “That’s exactly what I want.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Ezra had just pulled a clean pair of jeans over his new gray boxers when he froze, his expression locked with sudden chagrin.

Halfway into my tank top, I paused. “What’s wrong?”

“Shit, Tori. I didn’t even think about protection.”

Relaxing, I tugged my shirt down. “It’s okay. I have an IUD.” I quirked an eyebrow in amusement. “And you’ve been celibate for, what … eight years? So you’re clean, right?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. “Yes, but I still should’ve asked you first. I’m sorry.”

Warm affection fizzled through me, and I closed the distance between us. Rising on my toes, I pressed my mouth to his.

I’d intended to give him a reassuring peck, but as soon as my lips met his, the banked coals that had barely cooled sparked into full flames. I plastered myself against him, running my hands over his pecs and abs, then down to the front of his undone jeans. His breath caught as I caressed him through the soft fabric.

His tongue flirted with mine, one hand finding my breast for a return caress, then he shifted away with a reluctant sigh.

“If we take much longer, someone will come looking for us.”

“Probably Aaron,” I muttered. It would fit his track record for interrupting us. Not that it was his fault, but a girl could still be annoyed.

Ezra finished dressing, and I heaved my own sigh when his dark blue, long-sleeved shirt dropped down over his mouthwatering muscles. I could stroke his abs from now until my hundredth birthday and I wouldn’t get tired of it.

A rush of warm, damp air escaped the shower room as I opened the door. Ezra followed me out, waiting as I sat on the bench to put on my socks and shoes. I pulled on my sweater too, needing the warmth.

Pausing, I stole one more kiss, then headed for the stairs. The rumble of voices trickled from the main level as we hastened up the steps and through the door.

The pub was as packed as before, and walking into the crowd was like submersing myself in a sea of tension. The relaxing effect of my showers—the first one and the second, more exciting one—evaporated as unease infused me all over again. For a few minutes, I’d forgotten that we were holed up in the guild because bounty hunters would pick us off the moment we left.

Though no one manned the bar, several members were clustered around the stools—including Sin, Sabrina, Kaveri, and Zak. The latter stood a couple long steps away from the women, arms crossed and expression stony, while Kaveri eyed him as though trying to work up the courage to start a conversation.

Sweeping over, I slapped him lightly on the arm. “If you keep scowling, your face’ll get stuck like that.”

Sharp green eyes swung to me. “You’re back. Finally.”

“I was overdue for a long-ass shower.” I glanced around. “Where’re Aaron and Kai?”

“They went upstairs,” Sin revealed. “Girard and a few others went too.”

“Did they—” I began.

I broke off as Sin pulled her phone out of her pocket, the screen lit with an incoming call. She lifted it to her ear.

“Hello? Yes, she’s right here.” She held the phone toward me. “It’s Justin.”

I took the phone. “Justin?”

“Tori,” he said in a low, rushed tone. “I’m at work and we just received orders to evacuate eight square blocks of the Eastside. It’s just like that demon thing on Halloween.”

“They’re evacuating?” I repeated blankly.

“Yeah, from Cambie Street to Princess Avenue—and you know what’s dead center in the middle?”

The floor shifted unsteadily under my feet. “The Crow and Hammer. We’re in the center of the evacuation zone.”

Sin, Sabrina, and Kaveri stared at me with growing horror as they pieced it together. The only reason the MPD would go so far as to evacuate half the Downtown Eastside was because they expected mythic violence.

They were preparing for a showdown.

“How long?” I blurted into the phone. “How long will the evacuation take?”

“Around four hours. Do you know what’s happening?”

“Not yet,” I whispered. “I have to go. Sin will keep you updated.”

Ending the call, I handed Sin her phone and jerked my head at Zak and Ezra. “Come on.”

I didn’t have to say more than that. Both men were already sweeping across the pub toward the stairs, and together we rushed up the steps. I glanced into the second-level workroom on the way by, unsurprised to find it empty—or rather, abandoned. Of people. It definitely wasn’t empty. An inexplicable collection of boxes and crates had taken over the tables.

I tailed Ezra and Zak up the stairs to the third floor. The door to the offices was open, and a male voice rumbled out.

“… have to assume they’ve noticed we’re not in our cells by now,” Aaron was saying as we wheeled through the doorway one after another. “Depending on how they—”

He broke off, brows drawing down at our appearance—and obvious tension.

The room wasn’t small, but it felt cramped with nine people in it. Along with Aaron and Kai, Girard, Alistair, Felix, and my favorite ice queen Tabitha were already scattered among the three desks.

“Where’s Darius?” Ezra asked urgently.

The door to the GM’s office opened in answer, and Darius swept out to join us with his cell phone in his hand.

“Is there a problem—an additional one?” he asked.

“Looks like it,” I replied. “Justin, my brother—he’s a cop—just called and told me the police are evacuating eight city blocks, and the Crow and Hammer is right in the middle of the evacuation zone.”

Darius pressed his lips together, and I really didn’t like the sight of our infallible GM’s disquiet. Before he could reply, a phone chimed—his cell this time. He tapped the screen.

“Darius here. You’re on speakerphone.”

“Mr. King. It’s Agent Shen.”

I had to strain to hear Lienna’s voice, not because the volume on Darius’s phone was too low but because the agent was whispering so quietly.

“Are you safe?” Darius asked quickly.

“For the moment,” she breathed. “Mr. King, you need to evacuate your guild immediately.”

My fear turned icier.

“Söze’s gone nuclear,” a male voice added in a low growl. “I don’t know what the hell he’s thinking.”

I had to assume that was Kit, but he didn’t sound like a disarming jokester anymore.

“Shortly after we helped you escape,” Lienna explained, still whispering, “a Keys of Solomon member arrived at the precinct to meet with Söze. After their meeting, he announced the MPD was ordering Damnatio Memoriae and assigning the Keys of Solomon as the prosecuting guild.”

“Ordering what?” Darius asked.

“It means ‘condemnation of memory.’ It’s an emergency provision dating back to ancient Rome that authorizes the complete eradication of the condemned, erasing them from existence and history. It allows the MPD to unconditionally sanction one or more guilds to use as much deadly force as necessary against the offenders.”

No one moved. No one spoke.

“That … that can’t be real,” Felix muttered, shaking his head. “The MPD isn’t that barbaric.”

“Damnatio Memoriae hasn’t been enacted since the nineteenth century,” Lienna replied. “It’s a last resort for when all standard procedures have failed, and only for cases that risk publicly exposing magic—like mercenary mythics looting and burning villages.”

“The Crow and Hammer isn’t looting Vancouver!” Girard protested furiously.

“Söze claims most of your members are violent and your guild is preparing to attack the precinct en masse. He talked about your guild stockpiling weapons.”

“We have been stockpiling weapons,” Darius said. “In preparation for a battle with the Court of the Red Queen.”

Ezra folded his arms. “We can probably assume the Court is in control of the Keys of Solomon now.”