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“What does it say?”

He turned the screen for everyone to see. “You have one hour.”

A timer appeared beneath the coordinates, the red digits beginning their slow descent.

00:59:43.

“Ryneth was right. That’s the Breaking Storm.”

“Then we have no fucking time to lose.” Moargan grabbed his coat and threw Helianth his. “We go now. Text Kylix. Tell him to abort the mission.”

“I’m afraid that won’t work,” Yure said miserably.

Now that the screens had switched back, they caught the last guard walking inside the glass door.

“Those motherfuckers let him in.” Moargan was already on his multi-slate. “I’m calling Father and asking for backup. Let’s go.”

Around him there was more commotion, but Ryneth’s gaze stayed on the frozen hospital feed, where rain was still sliding down the glass doors.

His palm was burning.

Daven, where are you, my love?

He should have taken Ryneth with him. Should have trusted him to help with whatever plan had formed in his mind. But of course he had gone alone. Stubborn enough to walk straight into danger if it meant keeping Ryneth away from it.

Lifting his gaze toward the storm on the canvas, he watched as it kept spreading even while the others rushed to leave.

Concordant had gotten exactly what they wanted. Divert the attention. Split them up. Pull the family in opposite directions and make each of them choose wrong. Just like that night when they had ordered Ryneth to come and talk. The night Lysa had come out.

Had the buyer ever been the real point in the first place?

Or had Ryneth always been the point?

Not because they wanted him for himself. Because they’d known what would happen the second he was threatened. They’d known the others would move for him. Protect him. Tear themselves apart trying to keep him safe while Concordant built whatever they’d been hiding in the dark corners no one was watching.

It hit him then, hard enough to make his chest ache.

They really had protected him. Over and over again.

Not because they had to. Not because he’d earned it. Just because it was him.

His throat tightened.

No one had ever done that before.

And because of him, they’d been reckless enough to look the wrong way.

He had been their way in from the start. A cage, a message, a body moved across a border, and suddenly Helion’s most dangerous men stopped thinking like rulers and started thinking like family.

They hadn’t needed a random target.

They’d needed the one person who made all of them move.

Helianth checked his multi-slate. “Kylix is safe.”

“For now.” Moargan rolled his eyes. “Mirel, you stay here⁠—”

“Mirel?” Cyprian looked up, eyes wide as saucers and filled with worry.