The squad leader, a square-jawed man by the name of Talbot, caught my eye and pointed two fingers down the hall. I nodded, moving up to guard his back. Silently, we checked the rest of the house, sweeping the bedrooms, bathroom and office, on high alert for something to lunge through the doorway at us. All the rooms were dark and still, but my nerves jangled with every door we came to, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. Something was here, and it was close. I didn’t know how I knew this; I just did.

“Dammit,” Talbot breathed after we had checked all the rooms and had come up empty. “Where are they? They couldn’t have flown off, Jacobs would’ve seen them.”

Flown off. I frowned, thinking. The dragon wasn’t here, and it couldn’t fly away. What if it had used another escape route? What if it had gone down instead of up?

“Sir,” I ventured, and Talbot glanced at me. “Could there be a basement or a cellar? A place the targets could retreat to without being seen?”

He nodded briskly. “Search the place again,” he barked at the rest of us. “Look for stairs or a trapdoor—anything that could lead underground.” He gave me an approving nod as I turned away. “Good thinking, Sebastian.”

I caught Tristan’s gaze as we left the room; he rolled his eyes and headed into the master bedroom.

“What?” I challenged after we’d made certain the room was still empty.

“Nothing,” my partner replied. “It’s just...this whole storming the house and breaking down doors thing. It’s getting kinda old.” He paused at the entrance to the closet, one hand on the knob, and gestured me forward. I crept up and pointed my gun at the door. At my nod, Tristan flung the door back, and I tensed, ready to fire if anything came leaping out at us. But the closet, save for a few tattered jackets and shirts, was empty.

Tristan sighed. “See, this isn’t my thing,” he muttered as we scanned the floor and walls of the closet, searching for latches or hidden doors. “I mean, I’m a decent shot up close, but I don’t really like things jumping out of closets and melting my face off.”

“You’re scared of the lizards?” I asked scornfully.

He sneered. “Damn straight I am. And any soldier who’s seen real action will tell you the same, or they’re lying through their teeth. So don’t get all high-and-mighty on me, rookie. Not when you’ve yet to fire a single bullet at a live target. Talk to me when you’ve actually killed something.” He glared at me and moved to the bed to lift the covers with the rifle barrel, while I knelt and peered beneath the frame. No dragons lurking under the mattress, and no signs of a trapdoor, either. I straightened and shook my head.

“Besides,” Tristan went on, letting the covers drop. “I didn’t say I wanted to stop fighting. I hate the lizards as much as anyone, and any day I can put a bullet between their eyes is a good one in my book. I just feel my talents are being wasted on the front line. I’m a much better shot when I have the chance to breathe and actually aim at what I’m trying to hit.”

“Apply for sniper training, then,” I muttered. “Seems like an easy solution to me, since you don’t like being down here with the rest of the grunts.”

“Actually,” Tristan said smugly, “I already have.”

Frowning, I looked back at him. He smirked. “I start at the end of the month,” he announced. “But don’t worry, rookie—as long as neither of us gets our head bitten off, we’ll still be partners. You can go charging in, guns blazing, with the rest of the grunts, and I’ll be watching your back. From about a thousand meters.”

“Yeah?” I stepped away from the bed, not knowing how I felt about this announcement. “Well, don’t let me stop you,” I said, walking across the rug, back toward the bedroom door. “If you want to hide in the back and take potshots, that’s your—”

I stopped. Part of the floor beneath my boots had shifted slightly, a faint creak rising from beneath the rug. I stomped down, and heard a hollow, rattling thump, like the boards underneath weren’t entirely solid.

We pulled back the rug. Beneath it lay a square section of floor that had obviously been cut out and replaced. Grabbing the rope handle, I yanked it back, revealing a trapdoor with a steel ladder going down into the dark.

“Bingo,” Tristan breathed.

A minute later, the whole squad was assembled at the bottom of the ladder, our tactical lights scanning what looked to be a cave tunnel, natural stone walls and rocky floors snaking away into the black.