Page 71 of The Prince's Curse

“Either,” Paris said, a faint smile tugging at his lip.

“I’ll be fine,” Misha said.

“He’s lying,” Paris said matter-of-factly. He rubbed his temples and said, “I’ll call up a team. We’ll get on the road and wait until dark to hit her. I know that’s not what you want, but that’s our best chance of winning.”

The next hour was a whirlwind as they rushed to the compound, where Karina Novak and Olivia Pierce were waiting with bags of supplies, including blood bags and weapons. Julian took a bag from Olivia, whose eyes were puffy and bloodshot.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She swallowed, started to nod, then shook her head. “Rachel said he’ll be okay. It wasn’t as bad as Dominic. It broke his jaw, messed up his face, and he’s…” Her eyes welled over. “I’m just glad Sasha was with him. I owe him.”

Julian leaned in to hug her tightly. “We’ll take care of him. And you. I promise.” She let out a single heaving sob against his chest. Warmth seeped through his shirt, and he held her until she pushed against him.

Calmly wiping her eyes, she shook her head again. “Depending on what happens, I’ve already got hotels booked for you in Charlotte so you don’t have to drive in the sun. Dani and I will be here and online so you can call for whatever you need,” she said.

“If I tell you to rest, will you do it?” he asked.

“Absolutely not,” she said with a faint smile.

He leaned down to kiss her forehead and said, “Take care. I’ll keep you posted.”

Misha approached, gently squeezed her shoulder, and reassured her that he’d help as soon as they returned. Paris tried unsuccessfully to convince Misha to stay back, and Safira whipped around in a second vehicle with Dominic and Sasha in the back.

From the moment they drove onto the compound, it was less than fifteen minutes before the caravan wheeled out again. His people were well trained, though he wasn’t sure he could take credit for it. At the very least, he was grateful they were quick to act.

With Nikko out of commission and Kristina staying with her father, Alistair was in charge at the compound. He wasn’t a seasoned warrior, but he would keep the small court safe.

After breaking through rush hour traffic, they were on the road to Charlotte.Julian forced himself to put away the phone, watching that little pulsing red dot moving northeast toward Charlotte.

Armina isn’t going to kill her out of your sight, he reminded himself. That was a grim reality that might work in their favor.

Half an hour into the drive, he realized that he was the damned Elder of their court, not some poor victim who needed to be coddled. Straightening himself, he cleared his throat and said, “Can we get an update on Jonas Wynn?”

Paris glanced back, then said, “Give Rachel a call.” He jabbed a button on the console, and the readout changed to Calling: Rachel Ryan.

A few seconds later, white noise burst from the speaker, and then clarified as a familiar voice said, “Hey, kinda got my hands full. Is it an emergency?”

“We live in a constant state of emergency, Rachel,” Paris said wryly. “How’s Mr. Wynn?”

“Not as bad as he could have been. He said he got thrown off a balcony, but Julian caught him before he turned to Jello,” she said. “Looks like most of the injuries are from Shea slamming him against the wall first. Some broken bones, punctured lung, definitely some head trauma. But he’ll be okay in a few weeks. We gave him a distilled blood injection to help heal the internal injuries. Anything else?”

“Has there been anything on the news about a disturbance at the Hyatt Regency downtown?” Misha asked, rubbing at his temples.

She laughed. “You’re precious. I have no clue what’s going on in the outside world right now. Is Dom with you guys?”

“He’s with us,” Paris said. “Is Kristina there with you?”

“Yeah, she’s here and keeping watch for Shea to turn up. I think patrolling helps her not stress about her dad. You guys be careful. I’ll see you soon. Hopefully at home and not at the hospital,” she added. “I’ll text you later with any updates on Jonas.”

In the backseat, Misha was dozing, his face barely visible beneath the dark blanket covering him. Tension hung thick as Paris drove, and Julian stared at that dot on his phone, which had finally stopped in Charlotte.

He’d lost track of time when Paris’s quiet voice broke the silence. “What happened back there? To Misha, I mean. No offense, but you barely have a mark on you.”

“It was strange. I ran into one of the hunters, but she hit me with wood poison and left me. The witch had two other vampires with her, and they didn’t give a shit about me. She used magic to pin me down, so I would have been an easy kill, but they were all over Misha instead,” Julian said.

“Because he was a threat?” Paris asked.

“Maybe because he was trying to help me,” Julian mused. Dread pulled at his chest. “Maybe it’s like Shoshanna. Any witch who can stand up to her is a threat.”

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