“All clear on this side so far,” I growled into the mic. “Ember, Wes? What about you?”

“Nothing here, mate,” Wes answered from inside the coffee shop, probably huddled over his computer. Of the three of us, he was the only one this St. Anthony person wouldn’t recognize on sight. So despite Ember’s stubborn insistence that she wanted to be there when the other soldier showed up, in case it turned into an ambush, Garret told her that meeting him alone was the only way St. Anthony would agree. If he saw them together, he might think he was being set up and back out, and we couldn’t afford that. So instead, the three of us did the normal paranoid thing and set up watch all around the meeting spot, so that if the Order did decide to crash the party, we would at least see them coming.

“Clear on this side, too,” came Ember’s voice over the receivers. “Although, this might be...yeah. Garret, Tristan just pulled into the parking lot. He’s on his way in now.”

“Understood,” replied St. George. “Keep an eye out for anyone else.”

“Yep,” I said. “Good luck in there. Yell if you need us.”

“I will.”

The four of us fell silent, and I settled back into the seat, still watching the sidewalk while waiting impatiently for the meeting to start. I wanted this whole thing with Talon and St. George over and done with. The sooner we broke this alliance, the sooner things could go back to normal. Where my daily concerns were keeping my underground safe from the Order. Where St. George could go back to fighting Talon, and the rogues could go back to hiding from them both.

Where things could finally calm down enough for me to focus on a certain red hatchling. The past couple days had been bad for that, with the four of us squeezed into a single hotel room, unwilling to separate for fear Talon or the Order could kick in the door at any moment. It was safer, but it did make for some...trying interactions, with a surly hacker, a restless female dragon and an ex-soldier of St. George in such close proximity to each other, all the time. All of us were exhausted and on edge, and there had been a few outbursts and snarky comebacks, but that was to be expected. We were tired. We all wanted this done. We wanted a point where we could breathe again and not feel St. George always at our backs, while looming over them, smiling at us all, was Talon. Of course, if we did succeed and break up Talon and the Order, none of us had really considered or thought about what was going to happen next.

And lately...Ember had been acting strange. I couldn’t really say how; outwardly, she seemed the same—withdrawn and tired, but still always ready to go out and do something. Even though I knew she was just as drained and on edge as the rest of us. She was changing, losing the innocence of that sheltered girl in Crescent Beach. This life forced everyone to grow up fast, hatchling and human alike, and Ember was no exception. But there was something else. Something in the way she tensed whenever I got close, in the way she rarely looked me in the eye anymore.

It didn’t matter, I told myself. I was a dragon, I could be patient. But when this was over, St. George or no, nothing would keep me from Ember’s side. That was a promise to us both. To get to the bottom of whatever had come between us, and show her, once and for all, that she belonged with me.

GARRET

The glass door to the coffee shop opened, and Tristan St. Anthony walked inside.

He saw me immediately, his gaze going directly to the far corner where I had staked out a table. That wasn’t surprising. This location was tucked against the wall with no windows, out of sight of any snipers who might try to take a bead on me from across the street. It afforded a clear view of the entire coffee shop and more than one way to get out. It was where he would choose to sit.

I waited calmly, both hands on the table in plain sight, my fingers curled lightly around a paper cup. Tristan didn’t immediately stride to my table, taking a moment to scan the coffee shop for enemies. He then turned and walked to the front counter, smiling at the girl behind the bar as he placed his order. I scanned him for indications of weapons beneath his clothes, a telltale bump or sharp line at the small of his back. It was strange, seeing him like this. The enemy. A threat. I saw him watching me from the corner of his eye, probably doing the same thing, and wondered if this odd sense of guilt and resignation was plaguing him, too.

Finally, he turned, coffee in hand, and sauntered over to my table, sliding into the chair like this was a perfectly normal meeting. For half a heartbeat, we faced each other down, a storm of memories, words and emotion hovering silently between us.

“Hey, partner.” Tristan was the first to break the silence, and his voice was heavy with sarcasm. “Good to see you again, when you’re not hitting me in the back of the skull. I hope you’re enjoying that shiny rifle you stole. Where are your friends?”