Oh, you could say that. “Come on,” I told Garret. “We need to find him. I’m sure he’s come up with some sort of plan by now.”

Garret nodded, and we walked out of the room and down the hall, where a cacophony of voices had replaced the previous silence of the farmhouse. They grew louder as we walked downstairs, and my eyes widened in astonishment.

The living room and kitchen were filled with dragons. Hatchling dragons, all of them; teens and young adults lounged on the sofas and chairs and were seated on stools along the counter. Most of them sat clustered together, talking in furtive voices. A few had sought out isolated corners to sit by themselves, watching the other dragons with wary eyes. There were two adult humans in the room who seemed to be watching over the group, along with one older dragon that, if not a Juvenile, was pretty darn close.

For a moment, I could only stare. There were more hatchlings in this one room than I had ever seen in my life. All of them rogues who had rejected Talon, who had seen through the organization’s lies and wanted to live free. And that made me both very happy and very, very nervous. I suddenly understood why Riley kept his network so scattered and isolated from each other, and why there were only a couple dragons per safe house. If St. George was to kick in the door and storm the room right now, there would be a lot of dead dragons before the fight was over.

“Pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Garret murmured beside me, apparently thinking the same. “So this is Riley’s underground. I’ve never seen so many rogues in one place. If the Order ever saw this...” He shook his head. “Let’s hope that never happens.”

We wove through the living room toward the front door. I spotted Remy sitting in an armchair, surrounded by a group of older teens, and waved. But the usually cheerful hatchling didn’t smile back and quickly averted his eyes as we passed. I wondered what that meant but had no time to dwell on it as Garret pushed open the screen door and we stepped onto the porch.

“Okay,” I said, gazing around. It was quieter out here than in the farmhouse. A warm breeze tugged at my hair, swirling the leaves into tiny dust devils in the yard. I was struck again by the lack of noise; it reminded me of my old school in the middle of the desert where Dante and I had grown up. Though the scenery was more interesting at least.