He rolled his eyes. “As partners go, you’re not terribly impressive.”

“Thanks, darling. I appreciate you, too.” But the comment hit home. Most RG partnerships were intimately close—physically and emotionally. I couldn’t offer that kind of relationship to Jonah, but I hadn’t been great with the business end of things, either. I always seemed to be dealing with some vampire drama or other.

“Don’t take it personally,” he said, knocking me playfully on the shoulder, a grin in his almond-shaped blue eyes. “We knew when you came on board that you’d be a different kind of guard.”

I blinked at him. “I really want to discuss that at length, but maybe at a more appropriate time.”

“You need to go back to the lighthouse,” Jonah said. “It’s past time.”

I couldn’t argue with that. The RG was headquartered in the lighthouse that stood sentinel at the harbor in Lake Michigan. In the several months I’d been an RG member, I’d visited only once.

“You have my word. Although it might be hard to get away right now, all things considered.”

Jonah’s phone rang. He pulled it out, checked the screen. “That’s Scott. I need to get back to the House. I’ll message you tomorrow.”

I nodded, watched him walk away.

“They lost the driver.”

I glanced behind me, found Catcher moving toward me from the group of bystanders. I didn’t mistake the grimness in his voice. “You’re kidding me.”

“Unfortunately not. He ditched the vehicle, and the CPD lost him on foot in Little Italy. They’re canvassing the neighborhood. Maybe they’ll get lucky.”

“Maybe,” I agreed, but I didn’t think so. He was a vampire, and probably stronger and faster than the uniforms.

“The forensic unit’s on the way,” he said. “They’ll check the car, grab the bullet casings, see if they can get fingerprints. Maybe they can match the weapon to another crime, get us an ID.”

I nodded. “Maybe. The driver was a vampire. He was here for Ethan. Had a warning to pass along,” I said, and told him what the driver had said.

Catcher’s brow knitted with concern. “Is Ethan safe?”

“Last I heard,” I said, but I pulled out my phone to check for an update and found the waiting text: EAGLE HAS LANDED.

“He’s home,” I confirmed, the band of tension across my shoulders easing just a bit.

“Well, that’s something. Good thing he was out of here before he could see you play chicken with a few thousand pounds of American-made steel.”

I grimaced. I wasn’t sure Ethan had missed my stand against oncoming traffic, but I was pretty sure I’d know the second I put a toe in the House again. He’d be furious if he’d seen.

On the other hand . . . “When your body is your only weapon, you use it.”

Catcher smiled, and there was a tiny gleam of pride in his eyes. He’d been my trainer before Ethan, the first man who’d taught me to stand, to fall, and to bluff.

“I couldn’t agree more. You did good.”

“I tried. But I’d rather have stopped him here than know he’s still out there, whoever he is, waiting to cause trouble.”

“You know how these things go, Merit. He’ll probably cause trouble again, and you’ll get your chance to square off again.”

That was exactly what I was afraid of.

* * *

Catcher, Jeff, and I stayed until the vampires had gone back to their Houses and the humans who’d been injured—six of them—had been taken care of. And then we answered the CPD’s questions. The detectives who interviewed us were polite but wary; they knew my grandfather, respected him and his long career in the CPD, but weren’t thrilled about supernatural violence spilling onto their streets.

Not that I could blame them. I was relieved to be back in my car and on my way back to the House.

Cadogan House was three stories of white stone, plus a basement of offices and training rooms. It sat in the midst of lush grounds in Chicago’s Hyde Park neighborhood, and the décor was as fancy as the vampires who filled it. Subtle colors, fine fabrics, gorgeous wood.

I parked in the basement—a gift I’d earned for driving a silver confection of a car—then headed upstairs to Ethan’s office. I found him waiting with Luc and Malik, the House’s three senior staff. Ethan and Luc still wore their running clothes and race medals. Malik, tall with pale green eyes that offset his dark skin and closely cropped hair, was the only one dressed in the Cadogan House uniform: a slim-fitting black suit, crisp button-down, no tie.

Luc and Malik were seated in the office’s sitting area. Arms crossed, Ethan was in the middle of the room, pacing its length. His gaze flashed back to mine, body stiffening as he looked me over, checked me for injuries. He exhaled when he realized I was whole, but that didn’t stop the imperious arch of his eyebrow or the burst of magic that lit through the room.

I guessed he’d seen my standoff.

“I’m fine,” I assured him, stepping inside the office and closing the door. “He drove off, led the CPD on a chase. Abandoned the car and got away on foot.”

He walked toward me, clamped his hands on my arms. I saw the battle in his eyes—fear warring with fury, pride with concern.

I’m fine, I silently assured him. I’m worried about you.

Christ, Merit. He moved his hands to the nape of my neck, pulling our bodies together, touching his lips to my forehead. We’ll discuss this at length when we don’t have an audience.

So I had that to look forward to.

He kissed me again, released me. When I realized my sudden dizziness wasn’t just the result of adrenaline and magic, I walked to the bar inset in the long wall of bookshelves and grabbed a bottle of Blood4You. I’d earned it.

I popped the cap, drank the blood in seconds. It wasn’t until I’d finished it that I realized the blood had a strange, piney aftertaste.

I glanced at the bottle, brows lifted when I saw that I’d just imbibed a bottle of Cantina Lime blood. Who was coming up with these flavors? Not a vampire with good taste, certainly.

I put the bottle in the recycling bin and glanced back at the group, which watched me with anticipation.

“Big night, Sentinel?” Luc asked with a smile.

“Long night,” I agreed, and sat in one of the empty chairs. I glanced at Ethan, who still watched me warily. “Six humans injured, half of those when people rushed to avoid the gunshots. Most of the injuries were minor. And as it turns out, the driver was a vampire with words to say—and a message to pass along to you.”

Ethan’s eyes widened, and he moved closer. “Oh?”

“You should stay in Chicago. Give up your plans for London. Otherwise, you’ll regret it.”

Fury flashed in Ethan’s eyes again. He wouldn’t have appreciated the message or the delivery.

“Someone doesn’t want you to challenge Darius,” Malik said.

“That list is undoubtedly long and distinguished,” Ethan said, but his voice was tight.

“Darius himself?” Malik asked, and Ethan shook his head.

“Darius is many things, but cowardly is not one of them. And only a coward would attack unarmed civilians in order to get to me.”

“In fairness,” I said, “I think he tried to get to you.”

Ethan’s look was bland. He wasn’t pleased by the reminder—or the fact that I’d been the one to step between them. “You’re likely correct,” he said. “And strategy or not, a phone call would have sufficed.”

“Any idea of the source?” Malik asked, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands linked in front of him.

Ethan made a vague sound. “Beyond the long and distinguished list? No.” He glanced at me. “No mention of specifics? Of who was sending the message?”

“None. Someone in Chicago, maybe, since they had someone on the ground, knew about the race?”

Ethan frowned. “Scott wouldn’t care. Morgan might, but this isn’t his style.”

Morgan Greer was the newish Master of Navarre House. Scott Grey was the Master of Grey House, and Jonah’s boss.

“I’d tend to agree,” Luc said, then glanced at me. “The driver look familiar?”

“No. He’s not a Master, or anybody I recognized.” I gave them the basic physical description, and he wasn’t familiar to them, either. “He did have a tattoo—small crescent moon near one eye. Does that ring a bell?”

Ethan and Malik shook their heads, looked to Luc. “No, but we can search for it. Maybe it signifies something. Group symbol, maybe.”

“Do that,” Ethan said. “And check the tapes. See if the car—or the driver—has been near the House.”

Luc nodded, and a heavy silence fell. “Do you want to make a response to the threat?”

The unspoken question was easy enough to catch: Are you sure you want to go through with this? Stay on this path, which is clearly fraught with danger?

“No response,” Ethan said. “We do not, as they say, negotiate with terrorists.”

Luc stood, resignation in his features, and scrubbed his hands through his curly locks. He’d been supportive of his Master’s candidacy, but less thrilled that his colleague, his friend, was putting himself in danger to lead an organization no one respected. But that, I guessed, was part of the reason Ethan was doing it: to make it the organization it could be.

“You’ll need a guard when you leave the House.”

Ethan didn’t turn around. “No.” His tone brooked no argument. “We knew there was a possibility someone would make an attempt.”

“And now they have,” Luc said. “So we step up our game.”

“This won’t be the first or the last threat against me.”

“No,” Luc said, “but most of those threats don’t involve gunshots in public places and playing chicken with our Sentinel.”

Magic rose in the room, peppery with anger. Ethan turned back, his eyes as cold as emerald ice. He got testy when faced with fears he couldn’t manage, couldn’t handle with strength, intelligence, political savvy. “You think I’m not cognizant of her welfare?”

Luc fixed his gaze on Ethan. “I know you’re cognizant of her welfare. And I trust that she could handle herself because of the above-referenced chicken playing. We weren’t sure if the GP was paying attention. It looks like they are. We have to be more careful. You have to be more careful.”

“I’m still in the room,” I pointed out. “Let’s not discuss me in the third person.” But they were too absorbed in their own struggles to notice.

“Merit is usually with me when I leave the House,” Ethan said.

“Then you’ll usually have nothing to complain about.” Luc’s voice, usually full of humor, was tight with concern.

“I am Master of this House.”

“I don’t think we’re confused about your position, Liege.”

“Hey,” I said, stepping between them, arms extended in case either of them tried to do something stupid. “We have enemies enough outside the House. Yeah, this situation sucks. But let’s not make it worse with infighting.”

“Yes,” Ethan said. “Let’s not.”

Luc strode to the door. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Do that,” Ethan said, granting permission, but Luc was already in the hallway.

“He feels he’s to blame,” Malik said.

“That’s idiotic.”

Malik’s brows lifted. “Perhaps. But it is his responsibility to keep you safe. You aren’t being especially cooperative.”

Ethan just looked at him.

Malik gave me a long-suffering look that I appreciated more than I should have. “Talk to him,” he said, then followed Luc out the door and closed it behind him.

I glanced back at Ethan, expecting him to be staring daggers at the door Malik had shut with a surprising amount of force and irritation.

His eyes were flaming shards of emerald . . . but they were directed at me.

“What did I do?”

He gave me a pointed look, walked to the bar, and poured amber liquid from a crystal decanter into a short glass. He sipped it wordlessly, his eyes still on mine, and still fierce.

It wasn’t often that Ethan needed time to compose himself. The fact that he needed it now nearly had me sitting down. He loved me, I’d no doubt. But no one liked to face down an angry vampire.

And when he did speak, his words were cold and short. “You stepped in front of me. Correction: You stepped in front of a racing car.”

I paused, choosing my response carefully. “It’s my job to protect this House, even if that means putting myself between you and danger. I stand Sentinel.”

“I am well aware, Merit, of your position in this House. I won’t have you take blows intended for me.”

“You took a stake that was meant for me,” I pointed out, and I’d grieved for months when he’d been gone. “I’m not going to stand by and let someone take a shot at you.”

He cursed gutturally in what I thought was Swedish.

“If you’re going to yell at me, do it in English, please. I’d like to understand the insult so I can frame an appropriately pithy response.”

He looked back at me, eyebrow arched, but one corner of his mouth twitched. It was a good thing he appreciated sarcasm, since it was usually my first response.

“I am Master of this House,” Ethan said. “It’s my job to protect my vampires.”