We left the warehouse after that. There wasn't much point in hanging around, and we'd made enough noise to draw attention. Never a good idea in an area like that.

Then, we headed towards the hospital to get Jacob looked at.

"I'm fine," he insisted as Ashur made the turn onto the correct street.

"Sorry," Ashur said as he continued driving. "I don't follow your orders." I could tell he was kind of enjoying forcing Jacob back to the hospital. I mentally rolled my eyes.

I turned to Jacob in the back seat and said, "Look, your chest is bleeding," trying my best to sound reasonable. "You need to make sure everything is fine. The doctor hadn't even checked you out from the hospital when they took you!"

"But he was about to," he argued. "And I just tore open the wound a little," he wheedled. "I don't need to go back."

I gave him a look.

"Fine," he said, relenting. "If you think I need medical attention, you could drop me off on the next street down."

"What's the next street down?" I asked, wondering if he was trying to play me and get out of going to see the doctor.

"My friend," he said. "Who is also a doctor."

"What's his name?" I asked, watching him carefully. "Doctor Real McRealistine?"

"Her name is Eloise Chen," he replied dryly, meeting my eyes directly. "And if I need any kind of medical attention, she'll make sure I get it. Trust me."

A woman, huh?

Ashur glanced over at me, raising a questioning brow as well.

"All right," I agreed. "Let's head there."

As long as a medical professional assessed Jacob, I was good. And hey, maybe this Eloise was just was Jacob needed right now.

The building we pulled up in front of was on a nicer, sedate street, walking distance from the hospital, which made sense if that was where she worked.

"Is she home?" I asked, craning my neck to look up at the building.

"Yeah, she just messaged me," he said, opening the back door. I'd given him back his watch, glad to have it back on his wrist where it belonged. "She's coming out."

"Where . . .” I trailed off as I saw a slim woman in a brightly patterned sundress hurrying over, her dark hair pulled off her face, revealing her pretty, elegant features.

Very feminine, and almost delicate, at least in appearance.

"What did you do to yourself now, Jacob?" she admonished, taking in the hospital gown and the blood all over his chest. "You're supposed to be in the hospital!"

She didn't sound at all delicate.

Good.

Someone as delicate as she looked wouldn't be able to hold her own against someone as strong as Jacob. It shouldn't have been surprising. You had to have some real grit in you to get through med school and see the things doctors saw day in and out.

To my surprise, Jacob didn't snap back at her. That was very interesting. Very interesting indeed. I almost wished I had a white cat so I could caress it while I hatched my plans to get these two together. Not that it looked like they needed my help.

"I know," he said simply. "Think you could patch me up, Doc?"

"Are you insulting me?" she scoffed. "You know damn well I can patch you up, you idiot. But I'm tired of doing it! I thought those days were behind you!"

Jacob smiled at her, the expression slow and deliberate.

"Maybe I just wanted to see your pretty face," he drawled. "You always make time for me if I'm hurt."

Uh oh.

I thought she was going to really blow a gasket at that revelation.

"You are an asshat," she said calmly. "And if what you're saying is true, I won't be available to help." She drew herself up to her full height. "I will not enable this behavior."

"Well, can you enable it for now," he asked. "I'm feeling a little woozy."

He swayed a little.

Ha!

She muttered something under her breath as she wrapped an arm around his waist and hurried him over to the front door of the building. He didn't make a peep about the contact, despite the fact that he was perfectly steady on his feet. The pretty doctor didn't glance at either of us as she hurried them away.

Well.

All right then.

At least she was focused on Jacob and he seemed happy enough to be the center of that attention. More than happy enough.

"Looks like he's in good hands," Ashur remarked dryly as we watched the pair disappear into the building. He pulled away from the curb, looking pleased.

"Yeah," I agreed, a slow smile spreading across my face. "Looks like he is."

This looked like it had real potential.

"Back to your place?" Ashur asked.

I nodded. It appeared as if we'd taken care of the threat here in the city dome, at least for now. I knew Emberich wasn't going to just let this go, but he'd have to send more people to come after me now and that would take some time. So it was a worry for another day.

For now, I just wanted to go get Omari. So we were going back to my place so I could pack for the trip to Ashur's territory. Maybe I'd stay a bit. I felt like I deserved a vacation.

Ashur pulled up to the curb in front of my place.

"You can just stay here," I said as I opened the door. "I'll just be a minute."

"You sure?" he asked, glancing at the building. "I can find parking."

"Don't worry about it. I have a bag I keep packed," I reassured him, ducking down to see him after I stepped out. "I'll just add a few things and be right down."

"All right. I'll be waiting."

I hurried inside and up the stairs. It felt like I hadn't been back for days rather than just a few hours. Intense events sometimes had that effect.

I went straight to my closet, taking out the bag I had packed with toiletries, underwear, a change of clothes, along with other things I might need.

Like a couple of knives. I needed one of my bows as well. Normally, I wouldn't take so much in terms of weaponry just to pick my little brother up. Especially in Ashur's territory.

But I had no idea what was coming next after everything that had happened. Or what a long-term solution would even look like. Was there a solution? I ran the situation over in my head, trying to find a way to make sure this didn't happen again and coming up empty. How did one reason with someone like Emberich? Was reason even an option? I was thinking about that as I packed when I heard the front door open.

Ashur must have gotten tired of waiting in the car.

"I'm almost done," I called out, zipping up the bag.

"Yes. You are."

That wasn't Ashur's voice. I went still, my hand still on the zipper tab as an icy finger slid down the center of my back.

Damn.

I'd let my guard down too early. I slowly turned around, sliding one of my knives out.

"What do you want?" I asked as I met familiar cold blue eyes.

It was the man who'd followed me in the stairwell and attacked me at the hotel. He'd been playing a pretty starring role in my life lately, actually. I hadn't gone through the place to look at every guy after the last man died.

Stupid.

"My desire is simple," he said, spreading his arms out and smiling at me. "I just need to make sure our line of succession is clean."

"Clean?" I repeated, inching closer, hoping talking would keep him distracted.

His smile turned into a sneer.

"We cannot have dragon blood on our throne," he spit out, not making any move to back up as I drew closer. "You are unfit to rule, as I'm sure you must understand. There would be too much of a conflict of interest. And now, with who you've decided to take up with . . ." He made an expression of distaste. ". . . that is even more clear. We have a strong contingent that sees this and agrees." He shrugged. "And so, you must be eliminated. It isn't personal. You should never have existed in the first place."

Really? Not personal, huh? I'd like to shove his giant head up his own ass. That wouldn't be personal either.

Well, maybe a little personal.

"I exist because your King couldn't keep it in his pants," I retorted, taking another partial step closer. "Maybe he is unfit."

He grimaced.

"Yes, his proclivities are not ideal," he conceded. "But his bloodlines are pure and his loyalty to our race is unquestionable." He shrugged. "It is an acceptable trade."

"Not ideal?" I scoffed. But then shook my head. This wasn't a fight I'd win and it was beside the point. I needed to argue against his fear.

"I don't want to rule anything or anyone but myself," I said. "Not my goal in life." Just the idea of it gave me hives.

"I'm sure you understand that I cannot take your word on this matter,” he said. “It would be highly inappropriate when you have a vested interest in saying so while under duress." He spread his arms out, looking apologetic.

"And I'm sure you understand—I'm not going to just lie down and take it."

I slashed at his face, but he bent back to avoid the blade.

"There is no winning this fight," he taunted. "You may as well give in to the inevitable."

He tried to sweep my feet out from under me, but I hopped back.

"Forgive me if I don't take your word for it," I muttered.

I snapped a kick at his side, connecting with a solid thump. He staggered back, but immediately threw his own kick that caught me in the thigh, rendering it almost numb.

I jumped to the side, forcing my leg to work.

He wasn't expecting the jump.

Or the feint that ended with my knife at his throat. I was good in close quarters. That was where I'd fought my whole life.

"Would you look at that—it wasn't a lost cause," I observed, my forearm pressed against his chest as blood slid down his throat. The knife was sharp, cutting him even though I was just resting it against his skin.

But he didn't react to the feel of the cool steel against his throat or the warm drip of his own blood.

Not like I expected him to.

"You fool," he said, grinning at me. "This was the contingency plan. Do you really believe it would be one man in a hand-to-hand situation? After all the near-misses we had?"

He reached down.

I pressed the knife harder against him, but he took a grip on the side of his shirt and ripped it open anyway, allowing me to cut deeper.

"Doesn't matter what you do to me," he said, his eyes holding a sick satisfaction. "You're done."

Frowning, I risked a glance down. He was wearing some kind of vest with wires attached. . . . 

It took me a precious second to process.

Bomb.

He was wearing a bomb. I shoved away from him and whirled around.

"It's too late!" he called out, still laughing. "No use in running now!"

The window was ten feet away.

Seven feet.

Three feet.

Come on.

I pushed my feet faster, but it felt like I was still moving through molasses.

The window inched closer.

"Time's out," the man taunted behind me. "Game over."

I jumped and twisted in the air, closing my eyes and protecting my face as I held my breath.

"You're done!" he screamed behind me.

I dove through the window feet-first, the glass shattering easily, cutting me in a few places as I landed on the fire escape outside.

Not far enough away.