Fuck!
Wren sighs, and when I look at her, I can see the worry etched on her face.
“I’m sorry you wasted your time, Falkor.” She licks her lips. “Looks like you’re still going to have to go in blind.” She looks at me. “I don’t like it.”
“Not so quick,” Falkor says, and there’s a glint in his eye. “While the guard was looking me up on the system, I had a chance to check things out. My eyes are still pretty good for an old guy.”
Hope flares in my chest. “You got intel?”
“You’d better believe it,” Falkor confirms. He leans forward, pointing to the coffee table as if he’s drawing an invisible map. “The temporary vaccination center is in the parking lot. As suspected, that’s where most of the activity is. There were at least six guards stationed there, maybe more inside the tent structure they’ve set up.”
I nod, committing every word to memory.
“The main building,” Falkor continues, “has two guards at the front entrance. Big males. Armed. They weren’t moving around much, just standing watch.”
“What about the sides? The back?” I ask.
“There’s at least one guard doing a circuit around the perimeter. I suspect there may be more. I wasn’t able to observe long enough to get more information on patrols.”
“And the storage facility?” I ask.
“It has its own guard. He was posted right outside the door. Again, I couldn’t see the back of the buildings, but I’m sure there would be guards posted there too.”
“Are there—?” I start to ask, but stop when multiple vehicles pull up outside. There is the screeching of tires and the rumbling of engines.
My dragon roars to life, his presence flooding through me with such force that my vision sharpens.
Falkor’s head snaps toward the window. He moves faster than I’ve seen him move all week, rushing to peek out through the curtains.
The color drains from his face in an instant. He goes ashen.
“No…no…no,” he mumbles.
“What is it?” I’m on my feet, moving toward him.
“Mainland Security,” Falkor whispers, his voice shaking. “They’re outside. They’re surrounding the place as we speak.”
Fuck.
A loudspeaker crackles to life.
“THIS IS MAINLAND SECURITY. THE BUILDING IS SURROUNDED. COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP AND SURRENDER.”
Wren gasps, her hand going to her mouth.
“Oh no,” Falkor says, turning to face us. His eyes are wide with guilt and fear. “It’s all my fault. They must have realized I was lying. I must have given myself away somehow.”
“It isn’t your fault,” I tell him, my voice hard. My mind is racing. “I think they may have recognized the car.” I look over at Wren.
Her breath hitches. “From when we were almost caught,” she says, understanding dawning in her eyes. “When we had to make that U-turn.”
I nod. “Officer Douchebag must have recognized you in hindsight, Wren. There aren’t that many old-school light-blue Camrys out there.” The pieces click together in my head. “They followed the car, hoping it would lead to us.”
“I didn’t notice I was being tailed,” Falkor says, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so very sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” I repeat. “You did—”
The loudspeaker crackles again. “THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE TO COMPLY. COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD.”
