Egypt. Montenegro. Tierra del Fuego. Beijing. London. He skipped from one place to another, but it didn’t seem to matter. Daric, Jacob, and Delacroix were there on his tail. As they stood on the edge of a cliff on the Amalfi Coast, he turned toward the sea. Fatigue was weighing him down. He didn’t think he could feel this tired seeing as he was Lycan, but magic always had a price. His father too, was getting tired; he could see it as he swayed on his feet as he took a step forward.
“Cross!”
Daric’s voice echoed as he disappeared and went to the next place he could think of where he could find refuge. It was a gamble, but what choice did he have?
The cool winds of the coast turned into dry heat. The desert sun blazed high above him, scorching his skin and temporarily blinding him. It had been over a year since he’d been to this place, and nothing had changed much, though they did fix that giant hole on the balcony floor. Focusing his senses, he could hear the cry of an infant from the other side of the door.
“You must tell me where it is.”
He started as his father and his companions appeared a few feet away. Damn! How the fuck did they keep following him?
Daric’s eyes blazed like liquid fire. “Do you think Deedee will give you sanctuary, when you’re hiding the one thing that could destroy us all? That could mean harm to her mate and child? King Karim will burn you first.”
“I’m not trying to hide!” God, this was a mess. “I need time! Just stop following me—shit!” It was then he realized how they were tracking him. Reaching into his shirt, he grabbed the medallion hanging from the chain around his neck. Every member of the Guardian Initiative task force had one on them. He and Daric enchanted it themselves so they could always track anyone who wore one and whisk them away from danger.
“Son, don’t—”
But he ripped it from his neck and flung it far away. “I’m sorry, Dad,” he said solemnly. “I’m so sorry.”
His father’s face faded away as he used one last surge of energy to transport himself to a hotel room in the Baixa district in Lisbon. It was empty, thank God, so he teetered toward the bed and collapsed in exhaustion.
Cross woke up with a start. How long had he been out? He wasn’t even sure what time he’d arrived here. Though he didn’t feel as drained as when he first arrived, his body still hadn’t fully recovered, and it took him a moment to remember where he was. Lisbon. The Avenida Central Hotel.
Hauling his legs off the mattress, he sat on the edge of the bed and ran his hand down his face. God, what a mess. But hopefully he could hunker down here for a few days until he figured out what to do.
A vibration coming from his jacket pocket made his body stiffen. That’s what had woken him up. Fishing his phone out, he read the preview of the first message on the screen.
Leave.
What was that about? Unlocking the phone, he scrolled through the messages.
Run.
They all came from a company called Acme Escape Artists.
Tracking you down. Stalled as long as I could. They made me do it.
That company name … Lizzie! His cousin was trying to warn him.
Another message popped in.
They’re in the hotel. Destroy the phone and get out NOW!
“Fuck!” He crushed the phone in his hands and then used his power to turn what was left into dust. Where to go … where to go. He could stay on the run forever, survive in the woods or somewhere, but that wasn’t a viable long-term plan. For one thing, Gunnar hadn’t said if his vision had changed; if anything, the predictions he’d been having about the mage attacks only seemed to solidify his original vision. And in three years, Cross still couldn’t find the solution to his problem: how to save his clan and his mate.
His enhanced hearing could pick up footsteps down the hallway. He had to decide now. Every single place and contact he had; his father knew about. All their clans, their allies, their family and friends. It would have to be somewhere the New York clan had no connections to.
Ransom.
The name popped into his head just as the door to his room flew open, and Jacob burst in. “Stop, Cross!”
Fuck! His brain scrambled for the location of the last place he’d seen Ransom. What was the name of that garage?
The moment’s hesitation was enough for Jacob to stretch his hand forward and throw a ball of fire at him. Cross screamed in agony as the flames hit his shoulder, burning his clothes away and searing his flesh.
“No!” Daric shouted as he dashed inside. He reached out to Cross, but it was too late. His surroundings shimmered, and he disappeared from the hotel room.
His arm was still aflame, so he beat at it with his hand. “Argghh!” The pain was so unbearable that it made him lose his balance, so he dropped face down on the rough asphalt. The smell of his burned flesh was magnified to his sensitive nose, making him want to pass out. Can’t give up yet.
Lifting his head, relief sluiced through him when he saw the words Bucky’s Garage painted on the side of the single story brickwork structure. He forced himself up on his feet despite the dizziness threatening to overpower him.
“Hello?” He rapped on the door. “Anyone here?”
There was a shuffling inside before the door opened. “Whaddaya want?” the old man asked, his weathered face wrinkling up as he frowned and sniffed the air. “Holy
