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“Then what the hell is going on?”
“I wasn’t able to stop the experiment,” Bertram admitted, crestfallen. “The council wouldn’t listen to me, and continues not to listen. Sorin warned me that if I couldn’t stop them, he would take matters into his own hands, and I’m afraid that’s exactly what he’s doing. I want to find him and convince him to stop, but he cut contact with me months ago and I don’t know where he is.”
“Shit. Fuck.” Bertram pictured Kevin pushing his messy hair off his forehead while pacing. “Okay, I get it now—and for the record, you’re right to be worried, but not in the way you think. Look, you need to drop everything and come to Aurora right the fuck now. Shit is about to go down, and it is not going to be pretty.”
A chill shot down Bertram’s spine. “What is Sorin planning to do?”
“It’s not Sorin that’s the issue.” Kevin’s voice dropped in volume. “It’s Sandrine. Sorin’s health has gotten so bad he’s not able to leave bed much at all these days, so she’s stepped in as the de facto leader, and while I agree with most of the decisions she makes, this one is… it’s not right.” He sucked in a breath and sighed heavily. “We know that the only way the council will take us seriously is by sending them a powerful message, so she’s sending in a field team to kidnap Reynard Drake’s omega… and his eggs.”
The bottom dropped out of Bertram’s stomach. He remembered dropping to his knees in the blacksmith’s shop all those hundreds of years ago, cradling one egg in the crook of his arm and vowing then and there that he would protect it forever and love it for even longer than that. If anyone were to have taken his clutch from him, he would have tracked them to the ends of the earth and shown them no mercy.
And to have his mate kidnapped on top of that?
If it were Bertram in Reynard’s shoes, he would hunt down every last man responsible, and he would slaughter them all.
The Vanguard wouldn’t stand a chance.
Reynard was a quiet dragon, but Bertram had seen the way he’d looked when it seemed as though his mate would die, and he knew a love that deep would turn even the quietest dragon into a killer. It had happened to Bertram in Beirut, when Sebastian had Sorin at clawpoint, and it would happen to Reynard should Sandrine’s plan come to pass. He would rip the Vanguard to pieces, and without them, the war would be over before it had a chance to begin.
“When is the operation set to start?” Bertram asked.
“Tomorrow.”
“And where have you set up base?”
Kevin hesitated. Air buffeted the microphone like it had been dropped, and Bertram winced, sure that the conversation would end right before Kevin could share vital information. But whatever was happening on Kevin’s side resolved itself, and he came back to quickly say, “The old mill on the train tracks. That’s all I have time to tell you. I have to go.”
It was all Bertram needed.
“When this is all over,” he said, “I won’t forget what you did for me today.”
“Look, just get your ass over here, okay? That’s all I really need.”
Kevin ended the call before Bertram could take the phone from his ear.
In the absence of conversation, Bertram spared one last look across the ocean, where the last rays of the sun formed a thin wedge that divided the ocean from the inky night.
It looked like Grimbold would have his wish.
He was finished with California.
It was time to go home.
* * *
A cloud passed over the sun as Bertram exited the airport and ducked into the back of the awaiting car. It idled by the curb only long enough for Bertram to inform the driver of his destination, then pulled away, and they were off.
The sun did not reemerge.
Bertram cast Aurora, dreary and gray, a perfunctory look through the tinted window, then took his phone from his pocket and made a call. Black car service was a godsend, but it would only get him half as far as he needed to go, and since there was no time for the inanities involved with renting a car, he’d need help getting the rest of the way.
He held the phone to his ear and listened to it ring.
“Brother,” grunted Sebastian once the call connected. “Is this regarding a matter of the council?”
“Not this time, I’m afraid.” Bertram glanced at the window dividing himself from the driver. It was sealed. He had his privacy. “I need to ask you a favor. Two, in fact.”
Sebastian was initially silent, likely brooding, but after a moment said, “Go on.”
