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Rook’s shadows moved through the air, but they were clearly worried about the hostage.

The guard started backing toward the exit, dragging the woman with him, but he miscalculated. With his attention split between Rook’s obvious threat and the door behind him, he didn’t track Ethan’s forward movement until too late. Ethan had worked in customer service for years. He knew how to read intent, predict behavior, and more importantly, how to move through a room without drawing attention.

The guard’s eyes widened as Ethan closed within arm’s reach, but his knife was at the wrong angle, his body position wrong to adjust quickly without releasing his hostage.

Ethan grabbed the guard’s knife hand with both of his hands and twisted, using the man’s own momentum against him. The knife clattered to the floor, and the woman stumbled free.

The guard spun, reaching for Ethan, and that was the only signal Rook appeared to need. His shadows shot out in all directions, gently moving Ethan aside, as they wrapped around the guard, lifting him twenty feet into the air. For one long moment, he hung suspended, kicking at nothing, and then Rook’s shadows slammed him into the concrete wall with enough force to make the hooks rattle. The guard’s body hit with a wet crunch, and the man knew no more.

Rook materialized beside Ethan, his form flickering between human and the void. His voice dropped into registers that shouldn’t come from a human throat. “No one touches my mate. No one.”

“I know, babe. It’s all right. You did what you had to do.” Ethan reached up, patting Rook’s cheek. Rook seemed to have gotten a bit taller in the past five minutes. “Let me get the victims out while you calm down. Remember to breathe.”

There were twelve of them, including the woman who’d been grabbed, aged from what looked like late teens to early thirties. Ethan kept his movements slow and his voice calm, as Rook unlocked the containers.

“You’re safe. The people who held you are no longer a threat. Emergency services are en route. My name is Ethan, and this is Rook. We’re here to help.”

A man in his twenties, wearing clothes too thin for the cold, spoke first. “You’re not cops.”

“No,” Ethan agreed. “But we work with a Detective Sarah Rowsell, who’s very good at her job. She had somewhere else to be prior to this, but she is on her way with medical personnel and victim services coordinators.”

Rook shifted back into fully human form, his shadows retreating but remaining visible around his shoulders. To Ethan, they felt protective and comforting. To the victims, they probably looked terrifying.

“What are you?” the woman in the sweatshirt asked, her voice shaking. “I mean…I’m not being nosy, and it doesn’t matter because you just saved my life, but…” She waved her hand at the moving shadows, and Ethan had to look down for a moment because he was sure one of them waved.

Considering his options, Ethan decided to give a semi-honest answer. “Rook’s my partner, and he’s very effective at eliminating threats.”

Sirens wailed in the distance. Red and blue lights painted the broken windows.

Detective Rowsell arrived with six squad cars, three ambulances, and a mobile command unit. She took one look at the carnage in the central kill floor, the unconscious guards, and the twelve shivering victims, and immediately started organizing her people to take care of the victims first.

“You must be Mr. Park,” she said, approaching Ethan while EMTs assessed the victims. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Your friends speak very highly of you.”

“Detective.” Ethan nodded toward Rook. “This is Rook. He assisted with the extraction.”

Rowsell’s eyes tracked to the unconscious guards, then to Rook’s shadows. “I see. There appear to have been a few incident of wall damage at more than one location this evening. But given that we’ve just arrested a city councilman on federal trafficking charges and have enough evidence to dismantle the largest criminal network in the Midwest, I’m inclined to overlook certain... irregularities, shall we say, and focus on the wins.”

“That’s much appreciated,” Ethan said.

By dawn, all three facilities were cleared. All the victims were safe. Ashford was in federal custody facing multiple life sentences. Pope’s client list was being distributed to law enforcement agencies across four states, and as for Pope himself…He was dead before the raids.

Apparently, Pope didn’t heed Ethan’s warning about staying quiet and thinking while he was in the cells, and Thorn did call dibs. So that was that. Ethan’s experiences had already told him that entitled people were the least likely to listen to good advice.

Meanwhile, Ethan sat in the van beside Rook, watching the sun rise over Lake Michigan. He felt as though he could finally relax and take a breath.

“It’s done,” he said quietly.

Rook’s shadows wrapped around him, warm and solid. “You were incredible.”

“I’m thinking you guys are the incredible ones. Julian and I have just become more efficient at cleaning blood off random surfaces. You guardians do all the fighting.”

“You kept me from losing control, and you kept the victims calm.” Rook pressed his forehead against Ethan’s. “Partners.”

“Partners,” Ethan agreed.

His phone buzzed with a text from Julian: All clear on our end. Heading home. Cillian wants to celebrate with an elaborate breakfast. Thorn is already complaining about the mess.

Ethan smiled and typed back: We’ll be there soon. Tell Cillian I want waffles.