Pushing into motion, Sage and I darted from the Crowthers' gallery and ran down shadowy hallways furnished in various eras, one with Tudor paneling, another with Corinthian columns bracing the ceiling. We slipped to hide behind Renaissance tapestries or shrank behind clusters of bushy shrubs growing in Egyptian urns when we heard distant sounds from nearby soldiers or servants until we reached the end of a narrow hallway that led to the main entrance of the barracks.

I peered stealthily around the corner.

It was right in the middle of a large vestibule, with nothing much inside but a few chairs and flooring battle-scarred from constant use. Several corridors, like this hallway, and a staircase leading from the inside of the Keep to the chamber. The barracks weren't long, narrow buildings in a typical mortal military fashion that housed a collection of guards or servants. The barracks were inside the Keep in an area I guessed had once been the Servants' Quarters.

A stomping of boots echoed inside the vestibule as several soldiers suddenly appeared from the barracks with nets cast over each of their shoulders. The nets crackled and spat with magic, a smoky glow radiating off knotted fibers. Their leader snapped out orders to his men as they disappeared quickly down the corridor directly across from the barrack's entrance.

There seemed to be only a single guard posted outside the barracks. She was young looking and nervously pacing the chamber cast in shadows with the feeble lighting fizzing in and out. Her fingers anxiously kneaded the hilt of the sword hanging at her hip, distracted by the noises floating down the opposite end of the chamber where a staircase spiraled down from the upper level. She had the green air of a cadet still in training. I almost rubbed my hands together with glee. Excellent.

I just needed to get past her to find my way into the barracks.

I had no idea what I was going to encounter when I got inside. I had no plan, only to hide best as I could while I scoured its belly for the armory. I had my fingers crossed that right now with the Brunnie about, the weapons hold would be left open for easy access for the soldiers.

I retreated from the hallway's corner, and cold stone met my knee when I crouched down to face Sage. His cool breath wisped against my cheeks as worry coiled around my bones. "Be safe. Don't let them catch you," I begged him.

He quietly huffed, tipping his chin up as if to say I'd offended him. His raspy tongue swiped my cheek. "Ew," I mouthed, stifling a laugh and scratching beneath his chin. "As soon as you lead her away, head straight to the tower, and don't come out." Angling my head toward the corner of the hallway junction, I rose to my feet and whispered, "Good luck, puppy."

Sage silently trotted back from where we'd come to give himself a run-up to gain speed.

I froze as an unexpected burst of voices jarred through the air. It sounded as if those yelling at one another were at the top of the spiral staircase.

The godsdamned Crowthers!

I covertly peered around the corner to see the guard hurrying to the foot of the stairs. There came a volley of shouting between the brothers. Caidan bellowed, "Godsdammit, it got through!"

"Hells!" I heard Jett curse.

"We need to start locking down the levels to trap it!" Kenton shouted.

"That's going to take forever," Caidan groaned.

"Do it!" Kenton bellowed. It was his voice roaring down the spiral staircase. "Lock down the Barracks!"

Panic broke out beneath my skin.

Shit, shit, shit.

"Yes, sir!" came the reply from the guard on duty.

The brothers moved on. The sound of them cursing and shouting orders faded swiftly.

I didn't know what to do. I'd hoped the Brunnie would have led the Crowthers on a chase and they wouldn't be near the barracks when Sage attempted his ruse, let alone have the godsdamned place locked down. I spun on my heel, urging my wraith-wolf on with a flustered hand. "Hurry Sage, hurry!" I whisper-hissed.

I heard a terrifying noise—a loud click, and then a grinding.

My wraith-wolf whipped around. Muscles bunched as he ripped into motion, flying swift and sure.

A blur of speed.

A ripple of porcupine needles.

He barreled past, clawing around the corner.

I peered around the hallway's edge, watching Sage race across the large vestibule and past the guard with a strange high-pitched yowl that irritated my ears. He moved so fast it made him seem as if he were a whirlwind of chaos like the Brunnie had done down in the training pit.

The guard let out a startled cry. "It's down here!" She jittered, unsure what to do. Then cursed low, drew her sword, and dashed off after Sage who'd fled down a corridor, retreating out of sight.

I stared in horror as a dark shadow cast long across the gloomy floor right in front of the entrance to the barracks. The shadow was moving and that grinding noise grew louder and louder and louder.

Thanks to Sage, the area was cleared and I bolted toward the entrance of the barracks. I sprinted as fast as I could across the empty chamber, the black hood of my scarf falling from my head, its ends flapping behind me. There was absolutely nothing inside of the chamber that I could hide behind if soldiers or guards, or gods forbid, a Crowther suddenly made an appearance.

My blood rushed in my ears and my feet slapped upon the stone floor, friction heating the soles of my feet as I skidded around the corner and into the barracks entrance. It was a fat wide corridor with a few doors lining its walls, that ended at a junction and what looked to be a mess hall beyond. But inside the corridor, 15 yards ahead of me, were two gigantic adamere doors, more like walls that were thick and heavy, and they were sliding inward to meet one another to enclose the barracks behind their might.

No, no, noooo!

I threw every last scrap of energy into running for the closing gap.

The loud rasp of stone on stone hollowed out my ears, as the doors grew closer and closer together. The gap between them was narrowing—

Narrowing—

Adrenaline burned through my blood

I pushed myself faster, faster, faster...

The gap became slender with just enough room to hurl myself through before the doors shut completely.

Boots thumped and a stench washed around me before I knew what was going on.

I was there, there—

Running through the slender opening—

The fabric of my dress brushed up against the sliding stone doors.

I felt him. A terrifying realization I wasn't alone a heartbeat before cruel hands gripped my upper arms and I was yanked back—

My feet kicked frantically in the air—

My lips parted and a screech of fright ripped from my throat—

Only to be cut silent when a hand slapped around my mouth. My body sparked with awareness and terror as an arm wound around my middle and my back met a strong body. Warm lips were pressed to my ears and a soft, "Shoosh," was urged. His breath made the free tendrils around my temple fly. "Hello, Wychthorn."

Jett.

***

The choppy thunder of rotating blades and the powerful twin engines of the Cyclone vibrated through its metal cage and trembled through my boots.

We'd left our estate in the helicopter, soaring across the wild forest with its leaves curling into autumn, and now traversed like a dark shadow above the busy highway stretching toward Ascendria. Through the window I spied the cityscape twinkling with morning sunshine, rays of light glancing off the still surface of the silvery lake around which the vast city grew.

I shifted with unease in the utilitarian seat, the harness jingling softly with my movement. Nelle's emotion skittered beneath my skin, humming through the otherworldly connection we shared no matter how far apart we were. She'd erupted with fright a minute ago and now simmered with cold anger. And fucked if the anger didn't worry me more than the fear. But she was on her own, as I needed her to be. She was cunning and she'd handle whatever situation she'd found herself in—I had to believe she would.

The static-y conversation between the pilots crackled inside my ears as the helicopter cut through the clear blue sky. The metal beast buffeted through pockets of turbulent air currents and rattled, gently jostling us all where we sat in the cabin. The Cyclone had been refitted with cursed weaponry of lightning and firestorms, and we mostly used it for transportation when our House headed into war to face off against mutinous crime syndicates.

Since I'd lost valuable time this morning when I'd gotten Nelle off, the quickest way to get to the city was to take one of the helicopters rather than travel in convoy by road. I'd left the tower soon after Nelle had made her departure with her typical farewell door slam, and I'd headed straight to our helidrome. My team had met me there, bringing my weapons and a new armored suit, because I sure as hells didn't trust that Nelle hadn't messed with the spare I kept in my rooms.

The men and women, whom I'd personally selected from our warband to accompany me on today's hunt down in the catacombs for Yezekael, lined the interior of the cabin, seated in single rows and facing one another. All of us were geared up in adamere armor and strapped with blades. Since Silas Boon and the Children of the Harbinger were aware of Nelle's wyrm, and more than likely knew we possessed her, they were a threat to my family. All of my brothers would be heavily armed and accompanied by a cascade of guards whenever we left the estate.

I cradled my phone, swiping the screen to access the incoming message.

Penn: Do I want to know why Wychthorn needs calamine lotion and an oatmeal bath?

I rapidly typed my reply.

Me: She rubbed Poison Oak on the inside of my armor and more than likely has infected herself too.

When I'd tossed Nelle over my lap and spanked her, amongst other much more fun adult games, the residue of the poison oak that coated my body would have rubbed onto her skin. In the next 24-48 hours my little bird was going to come down with an intense rash. I didn't want to be around when that happened if I couldn't provide her with something to ease the itching.

Penn: I'm trying hard not to laugh... She's quite inventive.

Fuck, things had gotten crazy between us after the spanking. We'd kissed each other like we hated one another. She'd marked my body with her fingernails and slapped me around until I'd taken control. She was mine to tame and she'd put up a magnificent fight, finally surrendering beautifully beneath my hands. I rubbed my palm briskly up and down my thigh, trying not to harden up with the memory of us tussling and kissing in the tower, the exquisite sounds she'd made, low and guttural, the throaty purr and melodic humming when she'd gotten closer to her climax.

My thumbs flew over the phone's screen as I messaged Penn back.

Me: Very. How's the hunt for the Brunnie?

As far as I was concerned, my brothers could deal with Nelle's rabid Brunnie running rampant through the Keep by themselves. They didn't need me and I needed to get on the hunt for Yezekael's nest with Mela.

Penn: It's still ongoing. Its already destroyed the music room and gym and tore through your old rumpus room.

I sucked in a wheezing breath, clapping a hand to my chest.

Fuck. Not the rumpus room!

Penn: I'll talk to our Physician and put in an order for a cure from House Simonis. Highly doubtful it'll arrive in time, but I'll collect whatever Wychthorn needs in the meantime.

Me: Thanks, Penn.

I tucked away my cell phone into the bandoleer strung across my chest. Leaning back in my seat, I half-twisted my shoulders around, adjusting my booted feet on the metal floor, to stare through the window beside me at the freeway winding like a ribbon around the edge of the lake. There were pleasure boats already creating a frothy wash as they sliced through the water. The sun was cresting the low mountains and my wayfarers dulled its marigold sunlight. Down below, on the congested city streets, vehicles crawled to and fro, and swarms of pedestrians threaded along the pavement. The bustling world of the city was silent, but I could imagine the loud hum of conversations, droning engines and honking horns, the music floating from individual storefronts and buskers.

We flew above the pitched roof of the gigantic warehouse that was the home to Ascendria's Market situated in the red-brick district, before drifting over the highrises and skyscrapers, some needle-like, others monstrous and modern. If anyone glanced up into the sky, they'd see a corporate airbus, not the airship, glamoured and fitted for war.

A sharp glimmer of sunlight striking off the edge of the majestic Monarch Tower caught my eye. Even this early in the morning, there were clusters of tourists on its rooftop jockeying to get a better shot of the picturesque sunrise.

The Monarch Tower.

Once more my thoughts paused on my mother. She was always spinning around in the back of my mind.

My mother had come to Ascendria for a day trip 12 years ago wearing a jewelry set of yellow diamonds my father had commissioned, which she'd worn for him on their wedding day. She'd purposely chosen to wear a significant piece the day she'd been stolen. Could it be because she'd wanted to warn someone of her importance as a Matriarch? Or remind someone of her place by my father's side as his wife?

And if it was the latter, who the hells had come between my parents?

We'd never investigated what Mom had been up to that fateful day. With Byron's obvious betrayal, we'd never given a second thought as to what had occurred on her day trip to the city. However, due to the buried memory I'd partially unearthed of me as a child accompanying Mom to a strange otherworldly lair, I suspected she was a deep well of mystery and had a secret life that even my father didn't know about.

I tapped my foot on the vibrating metal floor, pondering over it.

And Jett, her shadow, what had my brother spoken to me about?

It was there itching away.

I fished my phone back out and began a search, quickly locating the Ascendria Times and their newspaper archives, pulling up the day in question. I ran through each page, my gaze flicking across the headlines as I scrolled through the articles. Nothing stood out.

The Cyclone slowed down and a different kind of weightlessness fell through me as we began to descend. The pilot hovered us over the flat rooftop of an international finance building, the Golden Panam. Above the stormy engine came the grinding of metal as the rear ramp slid down and natural light poured inward. Quickly unbuckling our harnesses, the team rose to their feet, grabbed backpacks from stowed compartments and hoisted them onto their shoulders, and quickly filed out.

Snatching up my own, I ducked down the metal ramp to jump the short distance to the rooftop, the landing jarring through my ankles. My hair was whipped about by the blustery machine-stirred air. Turbulent wind tugged at my body as I jogged out of range, the warband following me across the roof as the Cyclone lifted away, its shadow swiftly disappearing as it flew back through the city, heading for home.