Dax stood at the wide window of their private sitting room, his phone in hand. The city stretched beyond the glass, layered in desert dusk and distant lights.
He was still half feral with the need to do something.
Behind him, Chris had sunk into an armchair by the fire, clutching a cup of hot chocolate that Killian had nearly bribed the omega to drink. He watched Dax the way one watches lightning, not necessarily afraid of it, but profoundly aware of what it meant.
Rowan had left minutes ago.
Killian had left with him.
Which was when the phone finally rang.
Dax answered on the second ring and put it on speaker.
"Fitzgeralt."
Trevor didn't waste time on pleasantries.
"We had a situation," Trevor said, voice cool in that terrifyingly composed way that meant the world was burning somewhere and he was already rebuilding it. "An illegal detention site outfitted for medical sedation and transfer. Omegas and alphas were stored. "
Chris straightened slowly in the chair.
