That’s what I’d suspected. “They’re an assassin firm.”

He nodded.

Assassin firms were the magical elite’s dirty secret. Not every House had combat Primes, but most prominent magical dynasties had money and a willingness to settle their private feuds through murder. The assassin firms operated in the shadows, selling their services to the highest bidder. Somehow, I never thought I would run across one in Houston.

“This is a specific type of industry, where reputation is very important,” Alessandro said. “Diatheke is in the middle of a rapid expansion. A year ago, they were still a small firm. Now they’re in the top eight worldwide. Benedict can afford anything he wants, except looking weak. He’ll hit back to save face and to silence.”

“Silence me?”

“You, Runa, your family, anyone who works for you. Anyone who can expose them for what they are.”

The Herald was full of Prime fanfic involving sexy assassins who were secretly bastard sons and daughters of the rich and powerful and went on to have edgy adventures. The reality was uglier and much more brutal. Nobody wanted the assassin firms to exist. People who had engaged their services wanted to silence them to tie up loose ends. Combat Primes wanted to eliminate them to maintain their power. Law enforcement wanted them gone because murder for hire was illegal and difficult to solve. The few times assassin firms had been discovered, the authorities broke them up with the assistance of the local Assemblies. I knew of four cases in the last fifty years and every one of them had ended in a slaughter. The loss of human life on both sides was catastrophic.

“Do you understand now?” Alessandro asked softly.

The enormity of the can of worms I had opened finally hit home. Benedict would do everything he could to keep from being discovered. He had a building full of killers at his disposal and he would just keep sending them after us until we were all dead. And if we went to the authorities with what we knew, we would sign Halle’s death warrant. They would slit her throat in retaliation.

This would end in blood.

What do I do? How do we prepare to fight this? How did I blunder so badly? Thoughts raced and collided in my head, too fast to make sense.

Alessandro dipped his head to look me in the eyes. “We’re going to be best friends from now on, you and me. We’re going to do everything together.”

I managed to pin a thought down and made my mouth move. “Where are you staying?”

“In the building across the street on the left of the big tree. I like to keep an eye on you. Your security is shit.”

I was getting really tired of people telling me that.

Arrosa always said, “When backed into a corner, handle it with grace.” I scrounged up some grace. I had to look very hard for it.

“How much do you know about the assassins Diatheke employs?”

“Enough.”

“I have a recording of Sigourney’s death.”

He came to life like a shark smelling blood in the water. “Show me.”

“I’ll bring it over. First, rules. One, do not attack or endanger my family. Two, share. If I find out that you discovered something and took off without telling me, the deal is off. And three, don’t give snacks to my dog without asking me first.”

“Agreed.” He winked at me.

“House Baylor is delighted to offer our hospitality to you, Mr. Sagredo. Dinner will be tonight at six. I’ll bring the recording by shortly.”

He bowed with an exaggerated flourish, went to my window, opened it, and jumped out.

I ran downstairs and burst into the media room. It was empty. I turned and sprinted into the kitchen. Empty. Where the hell was everybody?

I tore through the warehouse to the office and all but flew through the door.

Bern, Runa, and Ragnar sat at the table in the conference room with two laptops, a tablet, and notebooks with scribbled notes. In the corner Mom rested in her favorite chair, scrolling through her tablet. The four of them raised their heads and looked at me.

“Where is everybody?”

“Leon is passed out in his room, because he hasn’t slept for two days,” Bern said. “Grandma Frida is in the motor pool still working on the Guardians.”

“Where is Arabella?”

“She said she had an errand,” Mom said.

I pulled out my phone and texted Arabella. Where are you?

No answer.

I dialed her number. It went to voice mail. Would it kill her to charge her phone? Half of the time her phone was dead and the rest it was dying, because she was always on it. Argh.

“Something bad happened,” Runa guessed.

“Diatheke is an assassin firm. They ordered the hit on your mother.”

Mom sat up straight. “How sure are you?”

“Pretty damn sure. We’re putting them at risk of exposure.”

Ragnar tilted his head as if he was considering a thorny logical problem. When he finally recovered from the magic drain and his emotions returned, there would be hell to pay. “We should notify the authorities.”

Runa’s face went white again. “We can’t.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because they have your sister,” Bern said. “They’ll kill her.”

Runa clenched her hands together. “Not if I get them first.”

“You would never get to her in time,” Mom said.

“We don’t know where they’re holding her,” I told her. “Diatheke’s building downtown is a fortress. Everything requires a keycard. Once you’re in the lobby, they can drop the grate over the front door and shoot you remotely. You won’t get the chance to kill anyone or to ask any questions.”

“So we just sit here. Again.”

“No,” Mom said. “We prepare.”

“They’ll hit us, sooner rather than later,” Bern told her. “If we can, we need to take some of them alive, so we can bargain. If we get ahold of someone valuable enough, we can trade them to Diatheke for your sister.”

Runa stood up. “I need some air.” She walked out of the room.

“Stay close to the warehouse,” Mom called.

“I’ll keep an eye on her.” Bern got up and followed her out.

I looked at Mom. Bern had voluntarily left the warehouse. Again. Since graduating from college, Bern did his best to impersonate a mushroom: he parked himself in the Hut of Evil with his servers and basked in the glow of the monitors, escaping only to use the bathroom and consume food. Going outside wasn’t in his repertoire.

Mom shrugged.

Ragnar got up. “I’m going to the kitchen to get snacks. Please don’t worry. I won’t go outside, and I’ll try very hard to not kill anyone.”

He left. It was just me and Mom.

“It won’t work,” I told her. “They’ll never trade Halle. She’s a potential witness.”

“I know,” she said. “We have to bleed them. We have to make it so expensive that they’ll drop it. They’re a business.”

“We’re gambling with her life.” Anxiety churned inside me.

“It’s not about Halle now,” Mom said. “It’s about keeping that wild wrecking ball and her brother alive.”

My stomach dropped. “I’m going to try, Mom. Halle’s still alive. There is still a chance.”

“Then you go and try. Heart and his people will be here tonight. That should give you some freedom of movement.” Mom sighed. “I miss doing small, quiet jobs. Insurance fraud. Cheating spouses.”

“I miss them too,” I told her. “But we are who we are. There’s no going back.”

Alessandro had taken the top floor in the three-story brick building that used to be a fire station years ago. Rogan purchased it but never did anything with it, and eventually we bought it from him.

I had walked through this building before when we purchased it. The first floor, with an unusually high ceiling, served as the garage for the fire trucks. The second, accessible by an iron staircase, housed the offices, and the third contained the rec room, sleeping quarters, and a big kitchen once capable of serving food to an entire fire team.

I climbed the iron stairs, with my hip screaming at me the entire way. I had left Shadow in the warehouse. She seemed susceptible to his bribes, and I had no idea what sort of bizarre thing he would try to feed her this time.

The original plan was to turn the fire station into barracks, but the building proved to be too old. Fixing it up would be more expensive than building a brand-new structure. Rogan let it go for next to nothing. At some point, Leon, obsessed with the fire pole, had tried to convince Bern to move there with him and turn it into a “hip bro cave.” That plan died when they realized rewiring the place was out of their budget.