“I don’t know if I like the idea of leaving you here, hoping you’ll catch up to me later. What if you have a change of heart?” She didn’t answer, and I narrowed my eyes. “Or is this just a ploy to get me to leave town, and you don’t have any intention of showing up?”

“No,” Ember said, looking up quickly. “That’s not it. I’m not going to become a Viper. I refuse.” She paused, clenching her fists, and took a deep breath. “I can’t stay with Talon anymore,” she whispered fiercely, “not with what I know now. This isn’t about stupid rules and hateful trainers and not getting to live my life the way I want anymore. This…this is about killing my own kind. And knowing exactly what Talon is like. I can’t be a part of that. I won’t.

“But…” She faltered, the shadow of some memory crossing her face, turning her eyes dark. “I’ve made connections here, people who are my friends, even if they are human. And they’ll wonder what happened to me if I just up and vanish into thin air. I want to say goodbye.” For a second, an agonized expression flickered through her eyes, before she closed them, briefly. “I have someone I want to see, one more time. And then, we’ll go with you, Dante and I. Turn rogue or whatever you call it, and leave Talon for good.”

“Promise me.” I took a step forward so that were a breath apart, close enough to see my own reflection in her pupils. “Swear that I’ll see you again.”

“I swear.” Her voice was barely a whisper, even as her gaze held mine. We had both gone perfectly still, standing at the edge of a vast precipice, afraid to be the one to take that first step. Or maybe just gathering the courage for the plunge. My heart pounded in my ears, my stomach turning backflips, as I reached out and took her wrists again, holding them to my chest.

“Make me believe it, Firebrand.”

Ember licked her lips. “Riley…”

The alarms blared overhead.

Ember

A shrill beeping cut through the silence. My dragon, already dangerously close to the surface, nearly sprang out of my skin when I jumped. I pushed her down, both relieved and annoyed at the interruption, and backed a couple steps away, looking up at the ceiling.

Riley leaped back too. With a curse, he fled upstairs, leaving me in the game room with Nettle and Remy peering curiously down the hall. We blinked at each other, then followed him upstairs to a bedroom, where he and Wes stood before his open laptop, glaring at the screen.

The alarm, whatever it was, continued to sound. Wes and Riley were bent over the computer, their faces intense.

“What’s going on?” Nettle asked as we came into the room. “Is someone coming?” Wes and Riley ignored her, still completely focused on what was on the computer. I edged forward and peeked over Riley’s shoulder.

The screen showed a black and white image of the driveway up to the house. I could see Riley’s motorcycle parked off to the side.

As I watched, feeling the tension lining his back, a large brown delivery truck pulled up to the front and lurched to a stop about fifty feet from the door.

“Bloody hell,” Wes sighed, collapsing into the chair. “I wish these blighters would stop using our driveway as a turnabout when they get lost. That nearly gave me a bloody heart attack.” He shook his head at the image on the screen. “GPS, mate. Use it, love it.”

“They’re not leaving,” Riley growled, still staring at the screen.

Wes blinked, and scooted forward again, narrowing his eyes.

We all crowded closer. No one seemed to breathe, staring at the lone truck in the drive. Then, without warning, the door flew open, and several humans spilled out onto the cement. My heart gave a violent lurch. They were armed and armored, and looked very much like the soldiers in my training sessions. They wore helmets and masks that concealed their faces, and carried huge, deadly looking guns. Only, this time, I knew it wasn’t a drill, and those guns weren’t filled with paint.

St. George had come. This was the real thing.

“Shit!” Wes leaped up, overturning the chair as he did. “Bloody St. George! We’re dead. We’re f**king dead.”

“Shut up!” Riley snarled, as Nettle screamed and Remy bolted toward the door. His voice boomed out as he whirled around. “Remy, freeze! Nettle, hush! Right now! Listen to me,” he continued, as both hatchlings stopped and gazed at him with huge eyes. “We’re not going to panic. Follow me, do exactly what I tell you, and we’ll be okay.” His near golden gaze shifted to me, intense and determined.

“I swear, I’ll get us out alive.”

“Riley, they’re surrounding the house,” Wes exclaimed, right before he slammed the laptop and stuffed it into a shoulder bag. “We have about twenty seconds before this place becomes a war zone.”

“Wes, take everyone out through the main bedroom,” Riley ordered, pointing down the hall. “Get to the balcony, we can launch from there. They’ll likely have all other exits covered, and at least one sniper watching the front. Now, listen to me, you two,” he continued, snapping his fingers at the other hatchlings. “This is just like we talked about. Go off the balcony, and head for the rendezvous point. You’re going to be out in the open until you can get around the cliffs. Fly low, hug the mountain, and don’t panic if you’re shot at.

A moving target is difficult to hit, even for St. George, so keep going and don’t break from the cliff wall. Wes, do you remember where to go? Can you get them there?”