Page 110 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

Sadie and Ashley Johnson, followed by an address.

When I lifted my gaze, I had to turn to find Blaz, already climbing the porch steps with his phone in hand.

“It’s on the Paladin side of the divide,” Reyna said, drawing me back to her and correctly predicting my first question.

Three more of her Flyers descended the stairs in elegant dresses, the redhead at their center giving me a slow once-over before a cocky little smile stretched her cheeks.

Yes, you’re prettier. No, I don’t have fucks to give.

Diverting my eyes, I studied the girls in the photo again.

“Are they…” I glanced through the softly murmuring crowd, but Reyna hiked her thumb over her shoulder toward a healer who was tending to two girls.

“Accounted for? Yes,” she confirmed.

“Do you mind?” I nodded to the Polaroid, relieved when she handed it over. At the very least, I could take it to Ally, see if she could read it and glimpse our unsuspecting hero.

“Thanks.”

“Tell me where it leads.”

“Yes, Commander.”

My show of respect didn’t go unnoticed, that spider’s smile creeping up her face just before she cleared her throat.

“Alright. You’re not paperweights. Make use of yourselves.”

Between the order and her shooing motion, we dispersed into the recovery effort. Tessa stayed glued to her side, and as they waded into the gathering, I caught her next question.

“Do you know where you’re taking them all? We have room in Chicago.”

God, I loved my fucking family.

“No problem, August. Please let me know when she comes out of it.”

I’d called him later that evening, hoping to borrow our Second for a lightning-fast reading on our Freedom Santa. He brought me up to speed—human delegates were being obstinate, there was no progress on the book or the diadem, the bond was fucking finicky—and then told me about Ally’s current preoccupation.

Jesus. She sounded terrifying.

“Yeah,” he breathed, trying to project strength with a steady voice and trusting words that didn’t fool me for a second. “Will do.”

“August?”

“Yeah?”

“She’s gonna be alright. You know that, right?”

“Trying to.”

“Trust your wife, big brother.”

“It’s not her I don’t trust.”

I frowned, about to push back—what the fuck was that supposed to mean?—but he wasn’t having it, quick to cut off my train of thought.

“Who—”

“Anyways. Gotta go, sis. Stay safe.”