“They’re not cops,” Jaxon said, low and certain, before Raven could even open her mouth.

The sirens grew sharper, more urgent not the steady, procedural wail of the police, but a fast, erratic pitch she’d never heard before. It made her skin prickle.

“How do you know?” she asked, her eyes scanning the streetlights through the penthouse glass.

“Because I’ve called the cops before,” Jaxon replied, his gaze hard on the horizon. “And they don’t send those.”

A convoy ...