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“Nothing but the best when punching through monstrous kings,” he answered, his grin suggesting he couldn’t wait to put them to use.
Riker handed out the remaining items: stakes carved from ash wood, garlic-laced throwing stars (because why not?), and a couple of discreet pistols for those who preferred their monster hunting with a bang.
“Remember, aim for the heart or the head,” Riker instructed, his voice a low rumble that underscored the gravity beneath our banter. “Zayn’s minions won’t go down easy.”
“If at all,” I muttered.
The room settled into a wary silence, each of us lost in our thoughts, the coming confrontation pressing down like the broiling Texas heat outside. In a few hours, we’d face the fire—and I hoped we wouldn’t get burned.
I fired up the laptop and a map glowed to life on the screen, casting an eerie light that seemed to dance across Cairo’s worried face. “Okay, team,” I said, tapping the display where a network of lines snaked beneath downtown Dallas like a subway map for the supernatural set. “Our very own magical GPS courtesy of Cairo’s intel.” I zoomed in on a labyrinthine cluster of tunnels, each one a potential lair for our fiery foe. “Right here,” I pointed, “is where Cairo’s got a hunch Zayn’s playing hide and seek.”
“More like hide and incinerate,” Elijah muttered, leaning over my shoulder with his usual flair for stating the obvious.
“Charming,” I shot back dryly, but I couldn’t help stealing a glance at Cairo. “Let’s remember we’re not just going after the big bad for kicks. We’re here for Poppy.” I clasped my hands together. “Get her back safely first. That’s priority uno.”
I paused, letting those words sink in, hoping they’d cool down any hotheadedness simmering in the room. My gaze swept across the faces of my comrades, brave souls ready to dive headlong into danger because I asked them to. It didn’t take a genius to know that throwing ourselves at a djinn like Zayn was tantamount to spitting on a wildfire—bound to get you burned.
“Once we’ve got Poppy,” I continued, my voice steady despite the somersaults my stomach was doing, “we bail. No heroics, no last-minute showdowns. We snag our girl and book it.”
“Retreat?” Riker raised a brow. But he knew better than anyone that sometimes the bravest thing you can do is turn tail and run.
“Exactly.” I nodded with more confidence than I felt. “We live to fight another day.”
There was a murmur of agreement, some reluctant, some resolute. I hoped they understood that this wasn’t about admitting defeat. This was about not getting incinerated or worse, becoming permanent residents of Zayn’s underground barbecue pit.
“Retreat sounds... practical,” Helen chimed in.
“Practicality over pride,” I said, the words tasting like a spell that might just save our skins. “And besides, who doesn’t love a good cliffhanger for the sequel, right?”
It was settled then—we’d snatch Poppy from the jaws of danger and beat a hasty retreat before Zayn knew what hit him.
“Time to go,” I said.
Riker nodded, stepping up beside me before Niko could.
The team fell into step behind us as we moved out the door and into an SUV Niko had found—or borrowed or bought—for the night. The air was charged with anticipation, the pre-dawn stillness of the world outside unaware of the storm we were about to bring.
“Everyone ready?” I asked, sliding into the passenger seat next to Niko. A chorus of affirmatives answered me.
“Then let’s go rescue a damsel and give a djinn his due,” I said.
The engine roared to life and Niko peeled out of the lot, the city lights blurring past as we raced against the sunrise to face what lurked in the shadows beneath Dallas.
“Poppy, hang tight,” I whispered to the night. “The cavalry’s coming.”
CHAPTER 9
The flickering lights of the Dallas Crystal Court Pyramid cast playful shadows on our determined little fellowship as we huddled close to Niko. His fingers danced over a sleek keycard, and with a satisfying beep that echoed through the empty expanse, we were in. I thought about how the mundane task of swiping a card was probably the least thrilling thing a billionaire werewolf like Niko Savas had done all week. Or maybe even all day.
“Stick close,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that didn’t quite match the strength evident in his frame. His gaze swept the area, missing nothing.
We made our way down the stairs and threaded through the food court, where the scent of leftover culinary magic hung heavy in the air. It was deserted now, the stalls shrouded in darkness, chairs upturned on tables. A pity, really; under different circumstances, I would have killed for a pretzel.
“Riker, Cairo... fan out, but don’t get too cocky,” Niko instructed without looking back. Riker, muscle-bound and brimming with bravado, gave a casual salute. Cairo merely nodded and melted into the shadows.
“Always thought this place could use a good spooking,” I said, trying to keep the mood light despite the seriousness of our mission. The others offered a mix of chuckles and eye-rolls—typical.
“Focus, Tessa.” Riker’s tone was gentle, but firm. “We’re not exactly here for the ambiance.”
