I felt a brief stab of guilt. “You were all waiting on me?”

One corner of his mouth twisted up. “Kinda hard to hide a dragon in a hotel room, Firebrand. The fire marshal would blow a gasket.” He brushed my arm, a brief, light touch that sent curls of heat through my insides. “Hurry and get packed so we can get out of here. I really don’t feel like seeing St. George again.”

We gathered everything, which took only a few minutes. I didn’t have anything except my backpack with some clothes and a couple small personal things. Wes had his laptop, and Garret had the gun he’d taken from the Order and the borrowed clothes on his back. Everything else fit into a single duffel bag, which Riley swung over his shoulder. The rogue traveled light and efficient, ready to pack up and move at a word. Everything was disposable; clothes, vehicles, places to stay. In fact, the only thing I knew he kept with him at all times was that dusty leather jacket.

“All right,” he muttered, staring through the peephole in the front door as we crowded behind him. At my side, Garret pressed close, making my heart skip. I could feel his presence, burning across my skin, even as I tried to focus. “I don’t see anything out there,” Riley went on, his gaze scanning one end of the street to the other. “Looks like we’re still in the clear.”

“Don’t be fooled,” Garret murmured. “If St. George is out there, watching us, you won’t be able to see them.”

Riley snorted without turning around. “Well we certainly can’t sit here until they kick down the door,” he growled, and turned the knob. Bloodred sunlight spilled through the crack as he pulled the door open, and dying sun shone directly into my eyes, making me squint. For a moment, he didn’t move from the frame, casting one final look around the empty street. Shielding my eyes, I peered past his shoulder, searching for anything out of place. The yards and streets were empty; no suspiciously parked cars, no “electricians” or “painters” pretending to be working nearby. Everything seemed perfectly normal. The van sat inconspicuously at the edge of the driveway, but it seemed an impossible distance away.

“Okay,” Riley went on, pulling the door back and stepping into the open. “All clear. So far, so—”

A muffled crack rang out from nowhere, making my heart jump to my throat. A sharp hiss followed the gunshot, and the van jerked, then sagged to one side, its back tires deflated in an instant.

“Shit!” Riley lunged back inside and slammed the door, as the rest of us backed hastily away. “Dammit, they’re already here.” Another crack rang out, and the front window shattered with a ringing cacophony, sending glass raining to the ground. I yelped, covering my face as splinters flew everywhere, and Garret grabbed my wrist, dragging me away from the glass.

“Stay back from the windows,” he ordered, pushing me against the wall beside the window frame. I grunted at the impact and scowled at him, but he wasn’t looking at me. His gaze, narrowed and grim, was on the rows of houses beyond the broken glass. “Snipers,” he breathed, as Riley pressed himself to the other side of the frame, his lips curled in a silent snarl. “They’ve found us.”

“Brilliant,” Wes spat from behind the couch. “Snipers, that’s bloody fabulous. I am so glad we risked life and limb to rescue you, St. George.” He glared daggers at Garret, as if wishing the next bullet would make the soldier’s head explode. “I don’t suppose giving you back will make them leave us alone?”

“Over my dead body,” I snarled at Wes, my stomach clenching violently at the thought. “Try it, and I’ll throw you through that window.”

“It wouldn’t matter, anyway,” Garret replied in a serious voice, as if Wes’s suggestion was actually legitimate. He looked down at me, his expression pained. “I would surrender to them,” he said, “if I thought the Order would spare you. But they’re here for all of us, and they won’t bargain with dragons. I’m sorry, Ember.”

I glared back at him. “I wouldn’t let you go, anyway. So you can stop being so damned fatalistic. No one is giving anyone up. We’re getting out of here together, or not at all.”

He blinked, a raw, almost vulnerable look passing through his eyes, and we stared at each other a moment. Outside, it was eerily silent. The sunlight slanting through the broken window caught on shards of glass and glittered red, like drops of blood.

Riley’s low, frustrated growl broke the silence. “Dammit, where are they?” he muttered, peeking cautiously around the frame, careful to keep his head back. “Why don’t they just charge in and shoot us already?”

“This isn’t the full strike force.” Garret stared out the window, his expression grave. “Not yet. When the survey team followed Wes back, they had to alert headquarters to let them know they found the targets. They have the sniper guarding the house just to pin us down, make sure we don’t leave until the assault team arrives.”

Wes swore again, peering around the sofa. “Right, then, if that’s the case, I vote we not stand here and let them pick us off. And since the van is now shot to hell, who’s up for sneaking out the back door?”

“No.” Garret shook his head. “That would be a bad idea. The sniper will be positioned in a spot where he has a full view of the neighborhood. If we try to leave, he’ll just as easily pick us off from where he is now. It’s not worth the risk.”