Baker raised his eyebrows. “I had no idea fae could be so damn brutal.”

Jackson’s grin flashed, but it was a dangerous thing. “That’s because most people are sensible enough not to get on our bad side. We are called dark fae for a reason, you know.”

“I guess so.” Baker folded up his map and shoved it back into his pocket. “Zero hour is six on the dot. Time now is five forty-five.”

We adjusted our watches to match his and then all headed down the street, keeping on the opposite sidewalk to our target building in an effort to stop any vamp guards from sensing our heartbeats.

But vamps were blessed with night sight that was very familiar to infrared, so even if they couldn’t hear the pulse of life through our bodies, they’d most certainly see us, darkness or not, if they happened to be looking our way.

And I was damn sure that after Rinaldo’s previous close call, he wouldn’t be foolish enough to camp somewhere without guards.

Tension crawled through me. I flexed my fingers, but I couldn’t quite ignore the growing certainty that this was a trap—and one that was going to go to hell in a handbasket all too soon.

Baker crossed the road and disappeared into the shadows of the building next to our target. Jackson and I continued on, crossing over a grassy divide before slipping into the parking lot of the building on the other side of the road. There were several cars and a van parked there; we used the van as cover.

I pressed back against the van, then carefully peered around its side. Our target building was T-shaped, with the three-story office portion being the top piece to the warehouse’s stem. The office section was a long, three-story, concrete and glass building. There were no lights shining in any of the windows and no sign of anyone either around the perimeter or on the roof. I couldn’t even see the rats or the wolves.

I really don’t like the feel of this, Jackson.

No. He paused. But if Rinaldo is inside—and Baker saw him go in—then fuck the trap. This might be our one and only chance to grab the bastards, and I’m not going to step away from it.

Neither was I, even if that precognitive part of me was beginning to whisper all sorts of dire consequences if we didn’t.

Of course, that could have been fueled by fear; by the knowledge that Rinaldo was never going to go down without causing as much mayhem and carnage as possible. He had the vamps in there to do it, but my real concern was, what else—and whom else—did he have?