But Casteel didn't want to be freed, or not from Nero anyway, but now wasn't the time to pressure Nero into anything.
"We should rest," Casteel murmured, though neither moved to separate. "It seems like we have little choice but to travel. We can't stay here. Tomorrow we'll need to start preparing for the journey."
"Tomorrow," Nero agreed. Casteel was just deciding he was hungry for what seemed like the first time in days when the door burst open and Lucan and Eryken rushed in.
"We've got a problem,” Eryken said. “Doran's forces hit the safehouse on Merchant's Row a bell ago."
Nero was instantly alert despite his injuries. "Casualties?"
"Seven dead, including the family hiding there. But that's not the worst of it." Lucan's expression darkened further. "They had detailed information—knew exactly where to find the hidden passages, which rooms were occupied. This wasn't a random raid."
Through their bond, Casteel felt Nero's cold realization. "We have a traitor."
"Has to be," Lucan confirmed. "Someone with access to our operational details and safehouse locations.”
"How compromised are we?" Nero asked.
"Unknown," Lucan replied. "But we have to assume they know about this location. The question is whether they're moving on it now or waiting for something."
Nero struggled to sit up, ignoring the pain that lanced through his chest. "We leave today. Now."
"You're not ready," Casteel protested, but his words carried little conviction. Makim also hurried in.
“What’s happening?”
Eryken briefly explained but Makim was already shaking his head. “Absolutely not. He cannot be moved."
"I'll die if we stay," Nero countered, swinging his legs over the side of the bed with grim determination. The wordswe both willremained unspoken but Casteel heard them loud enough. Casteel knew the movement sent white-hot agony through Nero's chest, but he gritted his teeth and pushed through it. "How long do we have?"
Lucan checked the window, scanning the street below with practiced efficiency. "Hard to say. Could be minutes, could be a full day. But if they follow the same pattern as Merchant's Row, they'll surround the building first, then breach simultaneously from multiple points."
Casteel felt Nero's pain spike again as his mate forced himself to stand. The effort left Nero swaying, one hand pressed against the wall for support, but his eyes burned with familiar determination.
"There's a back way out according to the girl who brings supplies," Makim said reluctantly, his healer's instincts warring with necessity. "Through the cellar to the old brewery next door. But the passage is narrow, and you'll have to crawl part of the way."
"Then we crawl," Nero said flatly, accepting the clothes Lucan thrust at him. "Casteel, help me dress. We need to move quickly."
As Casteel assisted his wounded mate with trembling hands, Makim packed his essential supplies with swift efficiency. "I'll prepare a stronger pain draught," the healer muttered. "Something to get you through the next few bells."
"No," Nero refused, pulling on his shirt despite the agony it caused. "I need my wits clear. We'll manage without it."
The sound of approaching hoofbeats echoed from the street below—multiple riders. Lucan cursed under his breath, drawing back from the window.
"Guards" he reported grimly. "At least twenty mounted, with more on foot. They're setting up a perimeter."
"How long until they breach?" Eryken demanded, already gathering weapons and supplies.
"Minutes at most," Lucan replied. "They're moving into position now."
Nero was dressed, though sweat beaded his forehead from the effort. Casteel supported him with one arm and looped a water pouch over his shoulder. Through their bond, he poured what strength he could into his mate, feeling Nero's gratitude mixed with stubborn determination.
"The cellar entrance is through the kitchen," Lucan directed, leading them from the room. "Stay low and move quietly. The floorboards creak near the back wall."
They made their way through the boarding house's narrow corridors, passing other rebels who were hastily destroying documents and gathering weapons. The building hummed with tense preparation—everyone knew this might be their last few minutes of safety.
In the kitchen, Lucan lifted a trapdoor concealed beneath a worn rug. The opening revealed a cramped passage that disappeared into darkness, barely wide enough for a man's shoulders.
"I'll go first," Lucan volunteered, already lowering himself into the passage. "Makim, you follow. Then the Silver Wolf and Nero. Commander, you should take rear guard."
