They burst out the back door, sprinting toward the barn. No sooner had they reached its entrance than a pair of headlights turned in, illuminating the dead-end street. Hurrying, they dove through the front doors, just as the all-too-familiar black truck screeched to a halt outside Trinity’s house. As they watched, the team of armed men spilled out once again, surrounding the cottage in seconds. There were a few indecipherable shouts followed by a loud crash as they kicked in the front door—the same door Trinity had been standing behind only moments prior.
“Oh God,” she whispered, horrified but unable to turn away. If they had been there. If they had just waited one minute longer to leave…
A strong hand clasped her shoulder and she turned in surprise. Connor stood behind her, tall and straight, his jaw tense and his gaze never faltering from the window. The moonlight gave his pale skin an almost unearthly pallor and his eyes did indeed seem to glow with faint luminescence. She drew in a breath, waiting for another “I told you so”—one in this case she totally deserved—but it didn’t come, and she was grateful for that.
They stood for a moment. Silent and watchful. Alone yet together. Trinity hyperaware of Connor standing strong and steady behind her, his hand still securely clamped on her shoulder as they waited to see what the men would do.
They didn’t have to wait long. Soon the sounds of crashing and banging and breaking glass assaulted their ears, soundtracking the search-and-destroy going on inside. Trin cringed, glad that she couldn’t see through the walls, couldn’t watch her beloved home being torn apart. She imagined the invaders shredding couch cushions, knocking over the TV, ripping her precious books from their shelves and tossing them away like rubbish. She pictured her Christmas tree toppling over, ornaments shattering, candy canes splitting in two, presents being stomped on and torn to shreds—one present in particular.
“Great. Now I’m never going to get to play the Fields of Fantasy expansion pack,” she muttered. When Connor gave her a questioning look, she sighed. “Yeah, priorities, I know. But still…”
Her only relief was catching sight of her cat fleeing the house unharmed. Baby Puss was a resourceful one. She’d been a stray, just like Trin—one of the reasons they’d bonded from the start. She could rest assured the cat, at least, could take care of herself.
Her grandpa, however, was another story. Where could he be? If only he wasn’t so stubborn about cell phones. She glanced fearfully down the street, half expecting him to be strolling down the lane, straight into their clutches. Would she be able to intercept him before he reached the front door?
But her grandpa didn’t appear. And eventually the soldiers streamed out her broken-down front door and loaded back into the truck. Trinity let out a sigh of relief while Connor continued to watch, eagle-eyed, until they pulled away, disappearing into the night.
“They left one guard inside,” he informed her, and she was grateful he had thought to count them. “We’ll wait here a little longer,” he added. “In case your grandpa comes back, we can grab him before he tries to go inside.”
He said it casually, as if he truly believed that at any moment the elderly man could waltz up the street, oblivious and unaffected by all that had transpired. She appreciated the sentiment, even though she knew he probably didn’t believe it. She was beginning to have her own doubts as well.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice a little choked. “I’m sorry I was being stupid before.”
He cleared his throat. “Not a problem. And understandable under the circumstances.”
“And I’m—I’m sorry I hit you,” she added, hoping he couldn’t catch the blush spreading across her cheeks as she turned to him.
Connor threw her a half smile. “You hit pretty good,” he remarked, reaching up to touch his cheek, which still glowed a faint red in the moonlight. “I’m glad you’re on my side.”
He said it casually, a joke maybe. But the words sent a shiver tripping up her spine all the same. His side. That sounded good somehow—even though she had no idea what side he was really on. She wanted to believe it was with the good guys. But how could she be sure?
“Anyway, I’m the one who should be apologizing,” he added, dropping his hand and giving her a rueful look. “If things had gone to plan, you and your grandpa would be miles away by now. Living happily ever after, the egg all but forgotten.”
The egg. Her eyes traveled back to the object in question, still cradled under Connor’s arm. Even now she could feel its strange pull, gnawing at her insides, and she had to fight the urge not to reach out and touch it. To take it into her arms, run her hands across its intricate surface. To feel its unearthly warmth under her fingertips.
“So what’s the deal with the egg, anyway?” she asked, shoving her hands into her pockets instead. “Why is everyone after it?”
He looked at her curiously. “Didn’t your grandpa tell you?”
She dropped her gaze, her cheeks burning now as she remembered what her grandpa had claimed.
“He told you, didn’t he?” Connor pressed. “He told you something about the egg.”
She paused, her mind racing with lies. But in the end, the truth spilled from her lips. “He said…” she whispered. “He said it was a dragon egg.”
She waited for the snorts of laughter, the rolling of eyes, the snide comments, and maybe an offer of a bridge in Brooklyn up for sale.