“We have to go,” I said.

My voice sounded thin, but my heart was beating like a trapped bird against my ribs.

Lucian did not look at me.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his radio.

“Victor,” Lucian said, his voice dangerously low. “Get the armored SUV ready. We are moving now.”

Only static answered him.

Lucian frowned, his thumb pressing the button again.

“Victor, report.”

Nothing but the dry hiss of white noise filled the empty space between us.

Lucian lowered the radio, his jaw tight enough to crack.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number, his fingers moving with practiced speed.

The call went straight to voicemail.

“He might be securing the perimeter,” Lucian muttered, though the tension in his shoulders told a different story. “We do not have time to wait.”

He grabbed his heavy black overcoat from the back of the chair.

Bishop stood up from the corner of the room, his gray ears perked, his eyes locked on mine.

The dog did not make a sound, but his entire body was tense, a coiled spring ready to release.