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“Sully,” he said. “I’ll call her back.”

If I hadn’t just rebuffed a mini pack of hellhounds, I might have been able to dismiss it. But with Whitney and his brood on the loose, I couldn’t shake the sense of danger.

Indy was putting the phone away when I snatched it in a sweeping grab. I swiped to answer and turned on the speaker.

“Indy?” Sully sounded fine. Safe.

I sighed in relief as Indy took back his phone and shot me a scolding look.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said into the receiver. “And Lore. What’s up?”

“Are you guys coming?” she asked. “Everybody’s here.”

A prickling feeling crept up the back of my neck. “Who’s everybody?” I asked.

“Aww, Loren, you can talk again! I’m so?—”

“Who’s everybody, Sully?” I repeated.

I would have taken the phone again, but Indy jerked it out of reach, then covered the mouthpiece and hissed, “Would you calm the fuck down?”

“Whitney brought his friends from Hell,” Sully replied. Her voice grew faint as I lurched to my feet.

“He says he’s ready to talk battle strategy,” she continued. “I assumed you’d want to be part of that.”

“We’re on our way,” I said.

I held out my hand to help Indy to his feet but, rather than take it, he frowned. The call ended, and the phone went dead in his grasp, but he kept staring, squinting, until I let my hand drop and turned to go.

No sooner had I taken a step than did he scramble up after me. “We’re gonna finish this talk in the car,” he said.

My nod was a scarce concession. I’d admitted enough. Whatever else I had to say could wait for Whitney and “his friends.” They certainly were no friends of mine.

Indy

We didn’t talkin the car. Well, I did. Loren listened and bobbed his head at mostly the right times, so I was equally certain that he heard me and was not paying a bit of attention.

When we pulled into the lot behind the Urban Easel, he sprang from the car, cutting a warpath toward the building’s entrance and not seeming to care if I followed or not. Judging by how he’d behaved when the hounds made their surprise appearance at our trailer, he might have preferred I didn’t.

I rushed after him anyway, bypassing the glass doors of the gallery in favor of the side entrance that led to the upstairs apartments. Loren’s hellhound speed forced me to jog to keep pace, my platform boots clunking every step of the way.

Arriving on the third level, he whipped around the corner toward the hall that led to the landing in front of Sully’s apartment. I had a key, but he didn’t need one. The door yielded to his presence, and he barged inside while I tumbled in after.

The smell of food cooking made my nose twitch, trying to discern what might be in the oven. Pizza? Pasta?

The sight of the rogue’s gallery clustered around the kitchen island stalled my hungry thoughts.

Sully, Whitney, and the two newbies turned toward our arrival. I spared brief glances on Sully and Whitney before scanning the unfamiliar pair again. Brass Knuckles braced against the countertop, her bare arms bedecked with tattoos. She scowled at me, then shifted her focus to Loren. She wasted no time identifying the threat, and I wasn’t it.

Beside her, Gym Bro bowed up to my inspection, popping veins and muscles in places I didn’t know they existed.

Whitney claimed he’d gone for reinforcements, and these two looked to be exactly that. Reinforced. Durable. A vastly different aesthetic from Whitney and Loren’s old-world elegance.

They reminded me of the hounds who attacked Loren at the auto shop. Rough, rugged, and battle-ready. Gym Bro specifically looked like he could split me in half, and not in a pleasant way.

Sully alone offered a smile, either oblivious or hopeful her cheer would defuse this situation.

As for Loren, if he’d been a real dog, his hackles would have been up. Prickly hair all down his spine and his tail bottlebrushed. But as a man—granted a very tall, vaguely intimidating man—he relied on his stance and stony expression to send a clear message.