“We’ll have to move fast,” he said, scanning the street like he was planning the best route to the sniper perch. “Stay low, keep your head down and don’t stop moving. A moving target is much harder to hit. We’ll have to circle around, and we’ll stay in cover as much as we can, but don’t panic if you’re shot at. And don’t freeze, no matter what. The sniper will likely have a partner guarding his back, too, so we’ll probably have to deal with more than one. Do you have a weapon?”

I shook my head, ignoring the fear spreading through my insides, making my stomach curl. “I won’t need one.”

Behind me, Riley made an impatient sound and reached for something at his back. “Dammit, Ember,” he growled. “Yes, you will. Here.” He tossed the pistol at me, and my heart lurched as I caught it. “Just don’t get yourself killed, all right?”

His eyes stabbed at me, and I couldn’t tell if he was furious, worried, or absolutely terrified, before they shifted to Garret. “We’re running out of time,” he said, his voice clipped and matter-of-fact. “What do you need on our end, St. George?”

“We’ll never make it to the house if the sniper sees us coming,” Garret replied calmly. “Can you cause a distraction? Something that will take the shooter’s focus off the surrounding area for a few seconds?”

“Yeah.” Riley nodded, and raked a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I can do that. Wes…” He glanced at the human, still huddled behind the couch. “Get ready to move. You’re in charge of finding us another car, now that the van’s been shot to hell.” There was a muffled curse behind the sofa, and Riley turned back to us. “Get going. I’ll make sure their attention is elsewhere.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“Oh, you’ll know it when you see it.”

“Right.” I took a breath and glanced at the soldier beside me. “Okay,” I whispered, resolved for what I had to do. “Ready if you are.”

“Ember.”

Riley’s voice was almost strangled. I looked back to find those piercing gold eyes on me, his expression tormented. “Don’t get hurt, Firebrand,” he said in a low voice, meant only for the two of us. “I don’t think I could take it this time. Come back alive, okay?”

A lump caught in my throat, and I nodded.

Garret brushed my arm, indicating for me to follow. With one last look at Riley, I turned away, trailing the soldier through the living room and out the back door, stepping into a dusty, weed-strewn yard. We sidled around the house, keeping our backs to the wall, until we came to the corner and the edge of the driveway. Garret peeked around the wall, his gaze scanning the open street and the rows of houses across from us. I braced myself against him to peek over his shoulder, feeling the tension lining his back.

“When do we move?” I whispered, thinking that the distance from one side of the road to the other had never looked so far.

“We have to wait for the distraction,” Garret replied, easing back. “Right now, we’re right in the shooter’s line of sight. We have to get across the road and behind the houses without being seen.”

I swallowed. “I wonder what Riley’s going to—”

There was a roar, a sudden inrush of air, and a window above us exploded into shards of heat and flames. Glass and splinters of burning wood showered us, making me flinch and press against the wall, as a massive firestorm erupted inside the house. As Riley launched his distraction in the most dragony way possible.

Garret tapped my leg. “Now.”

Garret

I darted from the house and sprinted across the road as quickly as I could, Ember close at my heels. I knew we were exposed; even with the rogue’s distraction, there was a chance the sniper would see us. But it seemed the sudden firestorm was enough of a disruption; we reached the other side without any shots fired and ducked behind another house.

The building we’d left had quickly become an inferno, tongues of fire snapping from the windows and roof, as dragonfire burned hotter and fiercer than normal flame. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the neighborhood, either. Cries of alarm were beginning to echo through the streets as civilians spilled from their own homes onto the pavement, gaping at the fire. A crowd formed rapidly in front of the burning house, talking to each other or speaking frantically into their phones. Some were even taking pictures. The police would arrive soon with the fire department, and they’d likely shut down the whole block. We didn’t have much time.

“This way,” I told Ember, and we crept swiftly up the street, weaving between fences and ducking behind cover when we could, moving toward the house on the corner. Ember stayed with me, never hesitating or slowing down, following my lead without fail. No more shots were fired on the house; there were far too many people out front now, watching the building burn. St. George wouldn’t risk firing into the crowd and hitting a civilian. But we didn’t want the soldiers following us, either. Or alerting the rest of their squad to where we’d gone. The threat had to be nullified before we could escape.

Which meant I would have to fight St. George face-to-face.

For a moment, crouched with Ember behind a parked car in a driveway, preparing for the next dash to cover, I felt a stab of guilt. What was I doing? These were my former brothers, men I’d fought beside just a few short weeks ago. What if the sniper was someone I knew? What if I got up there…and it was Tristan facing me on the other side? And if it was my former partner, staring at me down the sight of his gun, could he make himself pull the trigger? Could I?

We approached the last house, slipping through a rotting privacy fence and across an overgrown yard, moving swiftly for the door. There was no time for regret. I had made my choice. Past friendships, memories, the camaraderie I’d always been a part of—none of that mattered. The Order would kill me and my companions if I didn’t do something now.

We reached the back entrance, a simple wooden door that was probably locked from the inside. There was no time to pick the lock, no time for a quiet entrance. I drove my foot into the door, aiming for the weak spot right beside the handle, and it flew open with a crash.

The interior of the house was dark and empty, littered with trash and cobwebs. The windows were boarded up, and the air was musty and stale. A flight of wooden steps sat against the wall on our left, leading to the second floor. No St. George soldiers in sight, but they would likely be upstairs.