The rest of the day passed in a blur of cataloging, meetings, phone calls and more meetings. I deliberately kept busy, using work as a shield against my own thoughts. The only annoying thing was the aura of fear and tension that continued to linger throughout the day, putting everyone around me on edge. Still, I remained past business hours, staying at my desk when most other employees had gone home. By the time I made the final call to Talon HQ and hung up the phone, the sun had set and the offices were empty.

With a sigh, I leaned back in my chair and looked at the clock on the wall, both relieved and dreading that the day was almost done. My two bodyguards hovered close, silent and protective, even though there was no one else around. I spared them a glance and frowned slightly, realizing I didn’t even know their names.

“Time to go, sir?” one of them asked.

I let out a long breath and stood, rubbing tired eyes. “Yes,” I answered simply. “Call for the car. Tell it to wait for us in the parking garage.”

“Of course, sir.”

We walked back through the empty building, down silent, deserted hallways, and took the elevator. The doors opened into the underground garage, mostly empty but for a few cars still parked in their reserved spaces. I spotted our vehicle and began a brisk walk toward it. Shadows closed around us, and my shoes knocked quietly against the concrete, echoing the sudden thud of my heart.

I held my breath, but we reached the car without incident, making me slump with relief. One bodyguard opened the passenger side door, and I slid into the backseat as the door closed behind me.

“Hello, Dante.”

My heart stood still. Ember sat across from me, her eyes glowing a hard green in the shadows of the car. As I stiffened, the locks slammed into place with a loud click, and my sibling raised a black handgun and pointed it at my face.

PART II: The Wyrm Turns

PART II
The Wyrm Turns

Chapter 13: DANTE

DANTE

Last summer

“Ember, when did your parents die, and what was the cause of death?”

I could feel Ember’s impatience from the other side of the seat, in the way she reluctantly tore herself from the window, in the annoyed look she shot our escort, Mr. Ramsey. Even with my headphones on, I knew what she was thinking. She was dying to get out, practically bursting at the seams with eagerness.

“Ember, did you hear me? Answer the question, please.”

Ember sighed. “Joseph and Kate Hill were killed in a car accident when we were seven years old,” she said, sounding like she was reciting a line from a play. I suppressed a wince at how stiff and flat her voice was, but Mr. Ramsey didn’t seem to notice.

“Go on.”