But Griffin’s talent for acquiring information eventually got him into trouble. As his web of contacts grew and the secrets he uncovered got bigger and bigger, Talon had decided that he knew a little too much. Through his contacts, Griffin had learned of his impending “retirement,” and that was when he’d reached out to me. The deal was simple: if I helped him get out of Talon and taught him to stay off their radar, he would give me what he knew about the organization. The trade had sounded fair, and the info he’d offered had seemed too good to pass up, so I’d accepted.

“Too bad you didn’t know what a two-faced bastard he was before you let him into our operations,” Wes muttered. “I never liked him, Riley, have I mentioned that? I thought he was shady from the start.”

“You have mentioned that one or sixty times, yes.” I glanced back at the door, wondering what Ember was doing now. “After Griffin contacts us,” I told Wes, “turn off the damn laptop and get some sleep. You’re running on Red Bull and Mountain Dew fumes right now, and we could all use a couple hours rest.”

Wes leaned away from the laptop with a slight frown. “That’s not like you, Riley. I was expecting to be halfway out the door as soon as we heard from him.”

“I would be, but Ember needs the break. She’s tired, and this constant running around isn’t helping. I thought I’d give her at least a few hours’ sleep before we start again.”

“She’s not sleeping, mate,” Wes said quietly, still staring at me. I frowned at him.

“What are you talking about?”

Wes’s gaze darkened. “You haven’t noticed? Bloody hell, Riley. Have you really looked at the girl lately? She’s more than tired—she’s bloody exhausted. She sleepwalks through half our conversations. I go into the hall at three in the morning, and her light is still on and the television is blaring away.” Wes shook his head at me. “I doubt she’s getting more than a couple hours of sleep a night, and a tired dragon is a ticking time bomb. She’s going to explode, unless you can get to the bottom of what’s eating her.”

Slightly dazed, I leaned against the bed frame, thinking back over the past couple weeks. I’d noticed Ember had gotten quieter, but hadn’t confronted her about it until tonight. She’d been withdrawn for several days, and that worried me, but I’d assumed it was the frantic pace we were setting—the strain of the hunt—that was getting to her. Recently, she’d grown snappish and irritable, snarling at Wes whenever he made one of his “Wes comments.” I knew she was tired. I hadn’t known she wasn’t getting any sleep at all.

This was bad. Exhausted dragons were more than irritable and cranky, we could be downright dangerous as our control slipped and our baser instincts rose to the surface. Poking a tired dragon was an excellent way to get yourself burned.

“What do you think is bothering her?” I asked Wes. “I talked to her tonight, but I didn’t get a clear answer. Just that she doesn’t want to slow us down, but I know that can’t be the whole story.”

Wes rolled his eyes. “Oh, I don’t know, mate. We haven’t been doing anything stressful lately, have we?” Shaking his head, he leaned back and began ticking things off on his fingers. “Let’s see. In the past few weeks, she was shot, we were ambushed by St. George, you got kidnapped by Talon, your bloody hatchling had to fight Lilith’s murderous Viper student...” Wes grimaced. “Take your pick, mate. She’s not a soldier. She didn’t have years of training like you. Bloody hell, Riley, a couple weeks ago she killed a human for the first time and watched another dragon get murdered in front of her. What do you think that’s doing to her head right now?”

“Shit.” I stabbed a hand through my hair. What was wrong with me? We had been running and fighting nonstop ever since we left Crescent Beach. Ember had seen nothing but constant battles, blood and death. I was desensitized to it, but she had killed for the very first time in her life. Of course it would be getting to her.

I was about to turn around and stalk back to her room when the laptop chimed. Wes looked down, tapped a few keys and scowled.

“It’s Griffin. He’s got a meeting place for us.”

Rage flickered again, and I swallowed the growl crawling up my throat. For the sake of my underground, I would play nice with the backstabbing traitor and not rip his throat out through his teeth, but I wasn’t going to be happy about it. “Where?”

“Tomorrow evening. Louisiana?” Wes squinted at the screen and groaned. “Oh, bloody hell. He’s in New Orleans.”