Page 77 of Dark Dragon’s Mate

He just had to figure out how.

Trish raced through the darkened castle on four legs, a silent shadow. Up from the dungeons, into the Great Hall and up the main staircase, staying against the wall so she was harder to see.

She could feel Emon somewhere above her. He’d told her where internal portals could be opened, and she was heading for the closest one to the roof.

Praying Emon had gotten in without getting hurt. And that they could get the others out.

Were the red dragons coming? Would they get here in time?

It didn’t matter. Emon was her mate, the only one for her. Her place was by his side. Win or lose, fight or die. She didn’t want to be safe, if it meant being without him.

There were guards at the top of the stairs—she could smell them. Humans, two of them, with guns, near the entrance to Ragnor’s old lab—the huge room at the top of the stairs, where Grange had escaped to after she’d caught him searching the study.

Where Emon had kissed her.

Where I bit him, Layla said. Hard.

How about biting some enemies from Gen-X? Really, really hard?

Yes. Hunt. Kill.

For once, Trish was okay with that.

She crouched on the stairs, listening intently. There were more men inside, lots of them, lots of smells. Too many. Where was Emon?

Then she heard a voice among the small murmurs and noises of footsteps and things moving—a human voice she didn’t recognize.

“So here they are. The Al-Maddeiri princess, the white wolf, and the miraculous little boy I’ve heard so much about.”

“Stay away from him.” Mina’s voice. Trish’s ears pricked up. All four of them were in there. But where was Emon?

“You won’t get away with this, Johnson,” Tristan said. “Our people will find us, wherever we are. And they’ll take you down.”

“Brave words, white wolf.” The voice was calm, controlled. “But abominations like you can’t be loose in the world. Too much power, too little control.”

“Oh, and you’re making the world safe for everyone?”

“Safe for humans,” he said. He raised his voice, clearly talking to someone else. “Are we about through in there?”

The man talking was a stranger to Trish, but the man who answered wasn’t.

Grange. Fucking traitor.

“Just about. These are the last boxes.”

It was all she could do to keep from growling and giving her position away.

“Good. Open the portal. I want to get out of here as soon as possible.”

Oh, no fucking way was he taking her friends out of here. Not if she had to chew her way through every damn soldier in that room.

Trish crept through the shadows, almost to the top of the stairs, and prepared to attack.

Chapter 39

From his place on the balcony, Emon watched them load the last boxes onto the cart. He had to wait for just the right moment, when he had the best chance of not getting everyone killed.

Emon?