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Orien fills the doorway, the gun in his hand sweeping the room for danger. When he finds me alone, he steps into the room and closes the door again.

He’s dressed for business in a black jacket, dark jeans, and boots with soles thick enough to hide the sound of footsteps. He wears a black thermal beneath the jacket, the collar high enough to hide the edge of a Kevlar vest.

Not the clothes he was wearing when I left him.

He holsters his weapon as he strides toward me and grips my chin, angling it toward one of the yellow lights to see my face better.

“Who did this to you?” he demands with deadly calm.

I answer simply, “Family.”

The muscle in his jaw ticks. “Are you okay?”

“It was only a slap. Nothing broken.”

His thumb brushes over the swollen corner of my mouth. “Who? Your brother?”

“Uncle.”

The muscle in his jaw jumps. “Anyone else?”

“No. Just him.”

His hand slides up to the back of my neck, fingers settling over his Marks, and the contact steadies the uneasiness in me that’s been present since the security guards stopped me from reaching the compound.

I lean into him. “It hasn’t been three hours.”

He nuzzles my uninjured cheek. “We both know you weren’t going to make it back in time.”

I drag in a deep breath of his pheromones. “How did you arrive so fast?”

“The Vartanians aren’t the only ones who can put a tracker on you. There’s one in the hem of your jacket. I was ten minutes behind you the entire way.”

I rear back to stare up at him. “You came alone?”

One corner of his mouth lifts. “I’m not alone, am I?”

He puts a foot of space between us, and scans the room with professional assessment, examining the door, the mirror, and the corners where shadows pool deepest.

“We should go,” he says.

With a nod, I move toward the door.

He stops me with a hand on my chest. “Wait.”

I lift my chin. “I know where the cameras are. You don’t.”

For a moment, his hand stays on my arm, and I think he’ll insist on taking the lead. But then he reaches to the small of his back and produces a second gun, a compact thing, and holds it out to me grip-first.

I take it, check the chamber, and click off the safety.

“Don’t rush ahead,” he says.

“You stay two steps back, just in case,” I counter.

He hesitates for a second before moving aside.

I draw a breath and crack the door. The corridor beyond is empty, the emergency lights painting the familiar halls a jaundiced yellow.