“We have to go,” Sinclair commanded, looking at his brother and then at me; our eyes were fixed on him. “To one of the bunkers. Where we’re better prepared for a siege, if need be.”

I didn't know what he meant—not entirely—but I nodded, agreeing to his plan, trusting him. Roger nodded as well, and I was sure he knew more than I did. Sinclair shifted his gaze to the team standing wide-eyed behind Roger and nodded. Understanding his command to prepare to move, they sprang into action.

Roger, however, remained perfectly still. “Cora,” he said, looking into Sinclair’s eyes; his intention was perfectly clear. He wouldn’t go without her.

“We’ll find her,” I replied, my voice assured. “She’s coming, Roger. I won’t have it any other way.”

Roger looked between us, his mouth tightening, then nodded once before turning to leave and make his preparations.

“Ten minutes!” Sinclair called after him. “Less, if we can!” I saw the back of Roger’s head nod in understanding, though he didn’t turn.

Then, my mate turned his attention to me, loosening his arms around me and the baby and looking down into my face. “You’re a mess, little mate,” he murmured, smiling slightly. “Though I have to admit that I rather like the sight of you covered in the blood of your enemies.”

“Thanks,” I said, tossing my hair over my shoulder and affecting a casual air I didn’t feel. “I hear it’s the next big thing in fashion. Very chic.”

He chuckled and shook his head, but still looked down at me. “Are you all right, darling?” he asked. The worry in his voice, the need for me to be okay, loosened my resolve. My face fell, my knees went weak.

Because, really, I could be weak now with him here. My baby had needed me before—I didn’t regret a moment of it—but I had Sinclair at my side now to keep me safe, and I was free to be vulnerable again.

“I’m not okay,” I said honestly, shaking my head, my voice trembling slightly. Sinclair looked steadily into my eyes, listening. “But I will be.”

“You will,” he promised, drawing me close and kissing my hair. “But we have to move.”

“Yes,” I said, zipping myself up and squaring my shoulders as I looked him up and down. “Um—all this blood—”

“There are showers at the bunker,” he said, shaking his head and looking around the room. “Maybe—baby wipes? To get the worst of it off our faces and hands? But otherwise—we need to pack essentials and get downstairs.”

I laughed, heading to Rafe’s changing station with Sinclair in tow. I tugged a few baby wipes from the container, handing some to my mate before wiping my own face. “To think, when I bought these,” I murmured, “this wasn’t their intended purpose.”

Sinclair’s laugh rumbled softly, but we both moved quickly, heading to the closet to pack two small bags: some clothing for us and Rafe, and a diaper bag with as many diapers and changing essentials as we could fit. Neither of us put Rafe down, passing him between us when needed. It was instinct, I think, to keep him close.

Although we’d emerged from this horrible day largely unscathed, we were both shaken.

We finished packing in minutes and headed for the bedroom door—which I suddenly realized was shattered off its hinges.

“Do we need anything else?” Sinclair asked, passing through without looking at the splintered remains.

“Probably,” I shrugged, following closely behind. “But we can improvise, yes?”

He nodded and turned, taking my hand as we hurried downstairs, unwilling to be separated for a second.

Roger was waiting at the doorway with a backpack, a group of soldiers beside him carrying boxes of whatever they’d quickly gathered.

“My phone,” I murmured, pulling Sinclair into the living room to grab it from the table.

Then, we moved out of the house. Sinclair, the baby, and I went to one car while Roger went to another. Additional cars followed each, filled with the teams. I didn’t ask about the plan, trusting Sinclair and Roger.

It had been perhaps seven minutes since we’d executed nine men upstairs. Seven minutes since my world exploded. And I was so grateful for a mate who, seven minutes later, was already working to make us safe.

Because, I thought as I buckled Rafe into his car seat between me and Sinclair, it hadn’t felt real until now. Until now, it had just been a strange note and a wild goose chase.

But today? Today it was very real.

The car started moving as soon as I fastened Rafe’s buckle, then I fastened my own seatbelt and reached for Sinclair’s hand, which was waiting for mine over Rafe’s carrier. I looked forward, lost in thought.

I thanked the goddess for whoever sent that note the morning after Rafe’s christening. Because without it…

Tonight might have been a surprise.

And we might have lost him.

I squeezed my eyes shut, letting out a shaky breath. I felt Sinclair’s hand tighten on mine, supporting me, and a small smile touched my lips. Because I was safe. My mate and my baby were safe. And with that in mind, I could work on making sure everyone else I loved was safe, too.

“Your dad?” I said to Sinclair, finally turning to look at him.

“Roger’s already on it,” he said, looking down at his phone. “It’s part of the emergency plan—it’s been in place for a long time, adapted since we found out you were pregnant. I get you to the bunker, Roger goes for Dad.”

“And…” I hesitated. “Who gets Cora?”

“We’re sending a car for her,” Sinclair replied, meeting my gaze. “As soon as you find out where she is.”

I nodded, then scowled at my phone as I pulled up Cora’s contact information. I was sure Roger was going insane, tasked with fetching his father when all he wanted to do was find Cora and ensure her safety.

God damn it, I thought, my inner wolf prowling in frustration. Of all days for Cora to be evasive…

I scowled as I pressed “call,” and then again, and again.