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“Dad needs to talk to Mummy.”

He frowned, a miniature version of Roman that had his dad almost smile. I saw it happen. Layla saw it too.

“Go,” she said firmly. The little boy obeyed. Roman waited until the children had been guided toward the adjoining room. Then the atmosphere changed.

“What happened?” Layla asked.

Roman rubbed the back of his neck. “We got a location.” Everyone went still.

“Ceasar?” Sorcha asked.

“Yes.”

“Yes?” Runa repeated.

Roman nodded. “A warehouse outside the city. One of the men we've been questioning finally gave us an address.”

My stomach tightened. “Viking is there?”

Roman looked at me. “Yes.”

“With who?”

“Draugr. Lucien. Volken. Approximately thirty of ours.” Thirty. Jesus.

“What are they expecting?” Layla asked.

“We don't know.”

“That many men means you're expecting something.” Roman didn't answer.

Layla walked toward him. “Don't protect us with silence.” Something passed between them, then Roman sighed.

“We think it may be a staging location.”

“For what?” I asked.

His eyes came to mine. “Weapons.” Of course, more fucking weapons.

“And Malakai?” Runa asked quietly.

Roman's expression hardened. “No confirmation.”

That name had become poison inside the mansion. Malakai. The supposedly dead Demon Prince who apparently wasn't nearly dead enough for anyone's liking.

I didn't understand everything about him. Nobody seemed particularly eager to give me the full history, which told me enough. Vampires who had lived for centuries became uncomfortable when his name was spoken. That was not encouraging.

“Why are you here?” Layla asked.

Roman's jaw tightened. “Because I needed to see you.” The room went silent. That answer scared me more than anything else he'd said. Layla clearly felt the same. She stepped closer, Roman touched her cheek. “I'm going back downstairs. Communications are unstable around the location, and I need to coordinate from here.”

“You're worried.”

“No.”

“Roman.”

His eyes softened. “Yes.”