Page 21 of Red Marked

“I will.” He nods.

Back home, I’ve got easily a dozen males I could name and never think twice about. Right now, I’m on foreign soil. I need to trust Atlas with this.

I look at my watch, and he does the same. “Let’s meet at my place in three hours with whomever you’ve assembled.”

He nods. “We’ll put a plan together and find out what those fuckers are hiding.”

I nod. “Sounds good to me.”

We leave his apartment. I go back to my place.

I hope to hell I’m not wrong about him. That I can trust him to choose wisely. I guess I’ll know soon enough.

Bottom line: those females need us. I’ll be damned if I sweep it under the rug like a coward. The Mistveil Council can go straight to hell.

8

Flint

The six of us stand on the far side of the ridge, past the last of the floodlights, where the grass gives out and turns to loose rock.

Brian is the only one dressed. He’s all in black and has night goggles pushed up on his forehead. He checks the case of tranquilizer darts on his hip. His rifle is in his hand, the butt resting on the ground.

The rest of us are naked, clothes bundled and shoved under a rock for when we get back. If we make it back.

Behind us is the clinic. The landing pads are empty; the entire structure is pretty much dark.

We made it through two patrols, but it certainly helps that I know the schedule like the back of my hand. The hardest part is over. But we still have to get away in our dragon forms before we can say that we’re home free.

I turn around.

“Everyone good with the plan?” I whisper.

“Yep, all good,” Atlas says.

Saber nods. So does Dane. Rex rolls his shoulders and gives me a thumbs-up.

“I’m good.” Brian pats the gun. “I’m ready to roll. Looking forward to shooting a couple of ferals in the ass.”

“Really?” I lift my brows.

Brian grins at me.

I give a soft chuckle and shake my head. “Okay then, let’s do this.”

Five of us shift. Bones slide and lengthen, scales run up over skin, and the ridge gets a lot more crowded.

Rex drops flat to the rock and puts his wing down.

Brian works fast. The rig goes over Rex’s shoulders first, then under, buckle by buckle, and he hauls each strap tight with a boot braced against the joint. He walks the whole line once, checking, then climbs up and clips himself in at the chest and both thighs. He braces the gun across the front of the harness where he can bring it up one-handed and pulls the goggles down over his eyes.

He slaps Rex twice on the neck.

“You know what I love about night missions?” he says. “Nobody talks back.” He sniggers.

Rex chuffs.

I put my head down, and we take flight.