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The helicopter lowered itself toward the plain. When the chopper was seventy-feet or so from the ground, Orlando and three soldiers—one of them a military medic—rappelled from the other side of the cabin door.

When they descended to Lucienne, Orlando and another soldier reached for her, securing and carrying her to the ground. No one paid attention to Vladimir, who leapt onto a spare rope and glided to the ground after the medic.

Lucienne realized that she was lying on damp ground. Faces blurred in and out of her vision. Vaguely someone said her bleeding had been stopped but that she had already lost too much blood. Then, somehow, she was inside the helicopter again, flying. She loved flying, but not this time. This time it hurt too much.

She saw Dr. Wren’s dark eyes and bushy eyebrows hovering above her. Dr. Wren was the Lams’ doctor. Lucienne heard the doctor yelling at Vladimir, “Shut your mouth, boy. Let a professional do his job.” It seemed Vladimir was trying to persuade the short-tempered doctor to give her some painkillers.

She’d love to experience numbness overtake the discomfort, but painkillers weren’t for Sirens. All Sirens and their doctors knew this. Sirens regenerated faster than others, but painkillers prolonged their recovery time. Dr. Wren did, however, give her a partial anesthetic while he worked on extracting the bullet. He also gave her a blood transfusion. The blood was from the blood bank in Red Mansion. Only the Lams’ trusted family doctors, the Sirens, and Kian had access to the bank. The rare blood was for the Sirens only. After a Siren was marked during the ritual, his or her blood became compatible only with former Sirens. She had heard the horror stories about former Sirens who drained themselves when they knew their end was coming to reserve their blood for their heirs. Kian, who always acted three steps ahead, must have brought the whole package—the doctor and bags of Sirens’ blood.

Everyone continued fussing over her while she felt detached. She slowly sank into unconsciousness only to be brought back by the pain. She thought she had told Dr. Wren to take care of Vladimir’s bleeding hand, but she wasn’t sure. Maybe she only told the doctor to help Vladimir in her mind. She couldn’t tell the difference.

When Lucienne slid back into awareness, she was relieved to see that Vladimir’s hand had indeed been bandaged. He was searching her face, worried for her, suspicious of everyone else, and angry with himself. It seemed that he had kept his promise to stay close to her.

“You risked her life. If she hadn’t survived, you wouldn’t have been allowed to breathe the air again.” That was Kian, his tone spitting cold fury. “Even terminating you like a pathetic insect wouldn’t give me pleasure.”

“You wouldn’t have a chance to lay your uncouth fingers on me, if she hadn’t survived,” Vladimir answered. “In my bloody rage, I’d drag down whoever stood in my path. If you’re smart, you’d know to stay away from me. I’m only warning you because we both know she’d be upset if it’syouI take down.”

This was bad. No one said things like that to Kian. Lucienne opened her mouth, desperately wanting to stop them from fighting, but her tongue was still numb and her jaw wouldn’t cooperate. Neither of them noticed her weak glare.

Kian snorted. “Take me down?”

The men in the helicopter rumbled with laughter.

“What?” Vladimir’s voice was hoarse with anger. “You think I can’t?”

Orlando laughed to tears. “This is hilarious.”

Lucienne felt sorry for Vladimir. He was a lone wolf facing Kian’s superb pack. But the prince wasn’t backing down. “I know more about you than you think. I have open files on everyone around her.” Vladimir scanned the faces with a defiant, smug look. He singled out Orlando, naming his obsession with fish. After Vladimir named every soldier’s habits, hobbies, and family members, he upped the ante by calling out their weakness as well. This got their attentions. The men stopped laughing and glared at Vladimir.

Dr. Wren chuckled. “Kian McQuillen, you’ve met your match, according to spy boy.”

“Don’t call me boy,” Vladimir growled.

“How old are you, boy?” Dr. Wren regarded Vladimir in amusement. “Aren’t old enough to have a driver’s license, are you?”

The soldiers burst into raucous, vengeful laughter.

Lucienne stared hard at Dr. Wren to warn him not to stir up more trouble, but the doctor pretended not to see.

“Old enough to fly a jet,” Vladimir said.

“After we get Lucia home, send the prince right back to his uncle on the nextflight,” Kian said.

Lucienne inhaled. Kian knew about Vladimir’s uncle. He had a file on Vladimir and knew her friend was the last descendant of the royal Czech bloodline. She had been naïve to believe that she had kept things between her and Vladimir airtight.

She must prevent Kian from sending Vladimir away. “No!” she cried. Her desperation finally helped her break through her vocal barrier.

“I won’t leave her,” Vladimir challenged Kian. “And no one can make me.”

Everyone ignored Vladimir but turned to Lucienne.

“Lucia, dear child,” Dr. Wren asked gently. “How do you feel?”

“Kid, we’ll get you home soon,” Kian said, holding her hand.

“Lucia, I’m here.” Vladimir fought to hold her other hand, despite Kian’s vicious glare.

“Vladimir stays.” Lucienne looked at Kian. “He’s earned it.”