Jules watched the screen, having heard every last murmured insult traded between Maryanne Cauley and Enforcer Corday. Rooted, overlooking several monitors mounted on the Command Center’s wall, he issued an immediate order. “Summon Shepherd. Code Red.”

The Alpha was at the Citadel, less than five minutes away. That was all the time Jules required to initiate command sequence Exodus.

When his commander arrived, Shepherd watched the recorded exchange; he looked to his second-in-command. It wasn’t a ruse on the Enforcer’s part; Shepherd could read the pathetic resistance fighter too well. Onscreen there was no scheme or subterfuge. The man believed every word he’d spoken, was disturbed by it. Furthermore, Maryanne Cauley had begun to pace once the Beta slammed the door. Both of them had been infected with what would be dangerous intention.

Shepherd knew the cause of the disease.

Love.

Maryanne, Shepherd could control, but the Beta was going to be a problem. He would have to be disposed of, deal with Claire or no.

There was a throat noise, a grumble, as the Alpha absorbed what was slated in the report. There was only one plausible explanation. Leslie Kantor, Svana, was planning this terrible thing.

A fire in Shepherd’s eyes, a scent of righteous fury emanating from his pores, he said, “You were right, brother.”

There was no vindication upon hearing Shepherd’s confession. Jules was above such things. “Svana would plan her strike midday, assuring the majority of your Followers were trapped inside. I estimate she would need less than fifty men if her plan is indeed to demolish the Citadel.”

Of course she would plan mass causalities, take out as many of her enemies as she could with one blow; Shepherd had taught her that. It was exactly what he had done when he’d unleashed the prisoners from the Undercroft. “Push up launch procedure. I am calling for an immediate exodus.”

“The order was already issued.” Jules had to state the risks, the chance of failure. “It will take a minimum of twenty-four hours to ready the ships. Your men will be scattered, occupied with loading and prepping transport. The Citadel will be exposed, the guard greatly reduced. The Followers might not be able to find all the bombs.”

There would be no bombs to find. Svana had always preferred human cannon fodder. What they had to fear, was regular citizens ready to end their lives. “What are the current weather conditions over the Drake Passage?”

Jules pulled up a new screen. “Not favorable.”

Shepherd understood the consequences. An expedited Exodus had been discussed and strategized at length. “We will fly over the storms.”