Page 63 of Property of Carnage

I try again, my hand flat, dragging sideways through the air before closing it slowly into a fist.

Wreck frowns at me. “Is he doing charades?”

My middle finger goes up on instinct.

Wreck grins. “That one I understood.”

A few of the brothers laugh, and under any other circumstances I’d be right there with them, probably making it worse. Instead, I’m sitting here with my fucking hand still raised while somebody else waits to tell the room what I’m thinking.

Sentinel glances at me before turning back to the table. “He’s asking if we can force Malgrave’s hand before whoever’s behind him finishes whatever the fuck they’re doing.”

Raze looks between us. “Force him how?”

I point at Scar, tap two fingers against my throat, then gesture toward the center of the table.

Sentinel opens his mouth. I catch his arm. He looks down at my hand, then at me.

I shake my head.

Not this time.

My phone is in my pocket. I yank it out and start typing, hitting the screen harder than I need to before shoving it into the middle of the table.

The phoenix. Find out what happened to her fire. If Malgrave took it, it went somewhere.

Scar reads it first. “You think if we find the fire, we find whoever ended up with it?”

I point at him.

Fucking exactly.

Coil leans forward, forearms hitting the table. “Three hundred years is a hell of a trail to pick up.”

“Power like that leaves something behind,” Sentinel says. “Phoenix fire carries a celestial signature. Three centuries would weaken the hell out of it, but if Malgrave took all of her fire, there’s a chance traces of it still exist.”

Thorn turns his beer between his hands. “You could track it?”

Sentinel’s mouth pulls to one side. “Maybe.”