Rare Vigilance (Whitethorn Agency)

He left his phone volume on when he fell asleep in the hope Jasper would call. Instead, a few hours after he’d finally drifted off, his sister’s custom text chime woke him from the hazy edges of his usual nightmare. He fumbled for his phone and held it close to his face, wincing from the screen’s light.

Trip canceled. Lunch tomorrow?

He rubbed at his eyes and read the message again. Decebal wouldn’t be traveling with Bea. She wouldn’t have to face the Wharrams and whatever they’d planned to do her job protecting a vampire. She was safe.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered. He quickly typed out an affirmative and put his phone down. He’d only slept a handful of hours and knew he’d need more before his next shift.

Rest didn’t return. His initial joy and gratitude at Bea’s good fortune warped the longer he lay awake thinking. Doubts crept in. He hadn’t heard anything from Jasper. Whatever made Decebal cancel the trip must have been unrelated, and far more important than Atlas cared to contemplate. Without any kind of warning from Helias or Cristian, he’d be walking into a completely unknown situation tonight. Had Andrei shared his concerns from last night with anyone besides Cristian? Or had a new danger presented itself?

It didn’t matter how many scenarios he tried to plan for. He couldn’t escape the gnawing dread curling around him as he made his way up the private drive and parked in front of the house. He eyed the carefully parked line of the family’s cars as he headed inside, confused why there were so many of them out.

Helias met him at the door. For the first time in their acquaintance, Helias looked...disheveled was the wrong word, but close enough for the slightly wrinkled suit sleeves and the lock of hair that fell free from the slicked-back hairstyle. “Mr. Slava is upstairs with Mr. Vladislavic,” the consilier informed him. “You have been asked to join them.”

“Now?” Atlas asked.

“Now.”

Atlas swallowed. Avoiding this meeting would confirm his guilt. There was no choice but to obey. He followed Helias up the stairs and into the room.

He tried not to flinch when the door clicked shut behind him, trapping him in the confined space with three—fuck, four—powerful vampires. Atlas’s pulse shot up when he spotted Andrei slumped in a chair in the corner of the room, near Decebal’s desk. Andrei seemed equally surprised to see him, since his lip curled. “What’s he doing here?” he asked Helias.

The consilier slid past Atlas, careful not to touch him, and moved some paperwork out of another chair near Decebal’s desk so he could sit. “Mr. Vladislavic requested he be apprised of the situation,” he said.

“What situation?” Atlas asked, glancing from Helias to Decebal. When he couldn’t read them, he sought out Cristian, who stood near one of the windows, looking out over the garden.

Despite his crossed arms, Cristian looked oddly calm. He gave Atlas a bored glance before returning his attention to the security guards outside and some of Atlas’s nerves eased from his obvious apathy. Maybe there wasn’t a reason to panic yet.

“There was a break-in at one of our medical clinics last night,” Decebal said, commanding Atlas’s attention once more. “For the near future, I will be the only one attending meetings at our other clinics. Helias is already adjusting Cristian’s schedule to reflect that. When I am confident our other clinics are secure, I will let you know, Mr. Kinkaid. Until then, Cristian does not set foot near any of them. Do I make myself clear?”

The question may have been directed at Atlas, but Decebal’s determined look was not. He watched his son, who continued to ignore the meeting.

“Yes, sir,” Atlas said, and waited for Cristian to get the hint.

He didn’t, so Atlas cleared his throat subtly. When Cristian still didn’t react, he tried again, louder. Nothing. “Mr. Slava,” he urged.

Cristian rolled his eyes—a reaction at last—and finally answered, “Yes, Father.”

“Very good.” Decebal stood, a movement mirrored by Andrei, and strode for the door. “We will be back soon,” he called t

o Cristian as they exited, Helias trailing behind.

Cristian didn’t stir from his place at the window, so Atlas stuffed his hands in his pockets and waited. The muffled sounds of doors opening and closing drifted up through the floor, followed by car engines turning over. Cristian leaned closer to the window, his breath fogging lightly over the glass, his shoulders a tight line as he watched the scene below play out. After a long, tense moment, he turned away from the window and pointed to Atlas. “Go start your car.”

“What?”

Cristian ignored the question on his rush toward the hall. “Start your car, Mr. Kinkaid,” he ordered over his shoulder.

Cristian was nowhere in sight as Atlas made his way down the stairs, so he went outside, where his crappy car was the only vehicle left in the drive. He started it as commanded, either from curiosity or resignation or a mixture of both. The sound of the engine must have been the sign Cristian was waiting for because a moment later he emerged from the house with a nearly empty duffel bag and Helias hot on his heels.

“Remember,” Helias warned, “you only have two hours. I have no way of stalling for you if you don’t make it back in time.”

“I know,” Cristian promised. He pulled on the back door handle and frowned at Atlas when it didn’t open. “Unlock it,” he said.

Confused, Atlas did. Cristian tossed the duffel bag in the backseat and slid into the front passenger seat. “We’ll be back in time,” he told Helias before closing the door and getting his seatbelt on.

Atlas looked over the car roof to the consilier. He held out a hand to Helias and asked, “What’s going on?”

“Mr. Slava has two hours to run an important errand,” Helias told him. “Please have him home before that time is up.” Helias’s phone chirped. He ignored it in favor of holding Atlas’s gaze and said again, “Two hours.”