Below the St. George chapterhouses was another list of locations, all through the United States. These I didn’t recognize, but Riley swore heavily and shook his head. “Those are my safe houses,” he growled. “Most of them, anyway. Some aren’t in use anymore, but still.” He ran a hand down his face and snatched the phone from where it sat on the desk. “Wes,” he growled, shoving away from the computer. “Did you hear all that? Recall the safe houses right now, all of them...Yes, all of them! Get everyone out of the open before this goes down...Don’t worry about us, we’ll be there as soon as we can...Dammit, Wes, don’t argue with me, just do it!” He yanked the phone from his ear and glanced back at me. “When is this supposed to happen?” he snapped.

I looked at the top of the screen. “In three days,” I said numbly. Three days before Talon unleashed destruction upon St. George and the rogues. Three days to try to find a way to stop it. If they could be stopped.

But first...

I looked at Mist. “Get us to Ember,” I told her. “Right now.”

Chapter 26: RILEY

RILEY

The trip to the final lab was mostly a blur. Mist herded us back into the elevator and used her key card to gain access to the lowest floor, where, she explained, Ember was being held. She told me a few other things, about security and the layout of the floor, but I was finding it difficult to concentrate. I was desperate to get to Ember, desperate to find my Sallith’tahn and life-mate, but I was still reeling from what we’d just uncovered. The Night of Fang and Fire. In one imminent, terrible night, Talon was going to attack not only the Order of St. George, but every safe house, nest and rogue dragon they could find, with the intent of destroying Talon’s enemies once and for all. And, from everything I’d seen, they finally had the numbers to do it.

The Order of St. George was going to fall. After hundreds of years of hunting us toward extinction, killing and slaughtering without regret, the genocidal maniacs were finally getting what they deserved. Talon would sweep through with their army of clones, dragons they had bred for destruction, and wipe St. George off the map.

And that, in the most ironic twist of fate I’d ever encountered, terrified me.

I felt no sympathy for the Order. Present company excluded, I hated St. George and every fanatical, trigger-happy individual in it. I had lost friends, colleagues and hatchlings to their endless war, and there had been countless nights where I struggled to keep my underground safe and my hatchlings off their sights.