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“Nothing.” The corner of Darien’s mouth twitched, and he dropped the device in his pocket. “Thanks, Atlas.” Finn would be able to message him now—from the number on his business card—but no one else.
The doors slid open. Darien was about to lead the way out of the elevator when the sight of a familiar face coming in through the revolving doors made him stop short, an icy spear of dread shooting up his spine.
He pushed back in, shoving Roman inside and yanking Tanner back by the arm. Questions bounced through the elevator, but Darien ignored them, blocking the way out with an arm, as he punched the button to shut the doors again. His heart was pounding.
Jack said, “Who’d you see?”
“One of Gaven’s men. At least one—there might be more—”
“We can’t just stand here,” Kylar said, his voice tense. “If they press the button, we’re done for.”
Shay squeezed her way to Darien’s side, weaving around bodies and dodging feet. “I have an idea, but you guys have to trust me.”
Darien glanced at Roman. “What the hell does that mean?”
His cousin said, “Do what she says. No questions.” But a muscle feathered in his jaw, and Darien couldn’t place that look in his eyes.
Shay ducked under Darien’s arm and opened the elevator with a poke of a button.
Darien hissed, “What are you doing?”
“No questions,” she said firmly. “Follow me. Stay close.”
The imperator’s men were right there—three feet away from them as they waited for an elevator. They looked right at their group as they walked out of the elevator and crossed the room. But—
They didn’t react.
Darien blocked Loren from view, one hand outstretched toward her, the other grazing the gun that was tucked into the front of his pants.
He glanced over his shoulder.
The men were filing into the elevator. They didn’t look his way again, and neither of them showed signs of having recognized them, regardless that both of those pricks worked for Gaven.
They made it out of the building, into the biting cold of the late afternoon. While the others hurried for the vehicles, Darien lingered by the revolving doors, watching the floor numbers tick away on the elevator.
Once he saw what he wanted to see, he joined the others at the vehicles. They were already in their seats, but a few of the doors on each were open, so when he stopped at Roman’s car, everyone could hear him speak.
“How’d you do that?” he demanded, his eyes on Shay. She was in the passenger’s seat, Paxton in the back.
The Selkie’s mouth became a thin, bloodless line. She tugged on her jacket sleeve, as if hiding something.
A conduit tattoo, Darien would bet.
What the hell did she just do? Disguise them?
“Shay…,” Roman began, leaning forward and resting one hand on the steering wheel, “has a very rare gift. She can explain it to you back at the house—” When she leveled him with a hard look, he amended, holding his hands up in surrender, “If she wants to, fuck.”
Ivy poked her head out of Darien’s car. “Where were they going?” she asked Darien, keeping her voice low. “Gaven’s men?”
Darien looked up at the skyscraper—the top floor way, way above—and said, “Caliginous on fucking Silverway.”
Loren was about to shut the truck door when she paused.
Darien had stopped on the sidewalk to check his phone. Roman, Shay, and Paxton were already gone, and Jack was about to drive away in Darien’s car with Kylar, Ivy, and Eugene. Tanner was the only one in the truck with Loren.
A gust of biting wind howled through the street, nearly drowning out Darien’s words as he shouted at the car, “Meet me back at the house—I’ve got a stop to make.” And then he was rounding the truck and getting in the driver’s side.
Tanner said, “Finn already contacted you?”
