“Lucien.”

Her whisper wasn’t fear, it was warning.

The safehouse walls rattled as the laugh echoed again, distant yet close enough to slice under her skin. Lucien’s gun tracked the dark, his finger steady on the trigger.

“Stay behind me,” he muttered.

Solene smirked bitterly. “You really think that works anymore?”

Before he could answer, glass shattered above them. A single red flare arced into the night, burning against the sky like a signal fire.

Lucien cursed. ...