Flint nodded, closing his eyes. He needed to get back to Emma. His twin sisters talked about knowing when the other was in pain. Then a memory surfaced of Eloise talking about how her thumb had throbbed the time Pike had hit his own thumb on a job site.

Flint jumped up and bolted through the workshop. “Send me the location, would you? I’ve got to go.”

Oak was on his tail. “Where are you going?”

“Emma’s.”

“What’s going on?” Jack called after them.

Flint pushed the crash bar on the door to the workshop and dashed around the building, moving faster than he ever had before. A sense of dread and terror settled around him. He held his side and jumped into his truck. The passenger door opened as he slammed the thing into reverse. Oak had the door closed before Flint turned onto Main Street.

In the rearview mirror, he saw Jack standing in the middle of the parking lot with his hands on his hips.

Flint roared down the street and over the bridge. For once, he hoped one of the squad cars caught him speeding. They could use the backup. His side hurt, but the sharp pain had turned to more of an ache. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and hit Emma’s number. She didn’t pick up.

He told himself it didn’t mean anything. She was mad at him. She might never answer again. Flint’s gut hardened.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Oak stared at his phone.

“Emma. Something’s wrong.”

“And you know this because?”

“Instinct.” Flint gripped the steering wheel and pushed down on the gas pedal.

“She’s your mate.” Oak didn’t look away from his phone.

“No.” That wasn’t it.

“That wasn’t a question, Flint. Think about it.”

It had crossed his mind the other night when he was stroking her hair while she slept, only it wasn’t “she’s my mate,” but more “I wish she was my mate.” Flint glanced over at Oak. The five minutes up the hill had never felt so long.

Oak gripped his phone. “We’re going to Emma’s?”

“Yeah.” If his damn truck would move faster.

“That was the lab in New York. They located the car the guy’s been using. It was parked on a little side road up this street.”

Shit. Emma’s townhouse was on the road over the bridge, on the way to the school and the hospital. “Right after Emma’s house is a subdevelopment the builders never finished. The roads are there but none of the houses. It backs onto her backyard.”

“The car moved twenty minutes ago. They’re still tracing it back at the tech lab.”

Oak texted someone before pulling out a gun. “Shit, he’s moving fast. They’ve locked in on him.”

Emma’s house was coming up on the right.

“Hurry, check to see if she’s inside,” Oak said. “I’ll go after the guy if she is.”

“Yes.” Flint pulled into the driveway. But in his gut, he knew she wasn’t there.

The two of them ran out of the truck. In her house, Flint could see the tendrils of wards hanging loose on either side of the door. Red and bright blue cables of power broken.

“He’s been inside.” Flint opened the door. “Emma!” He raced through the kitchen, up the stairs to her bedroom. There was no recent scent of her upstairs at all. He thundered down the stairs.

Oak came out of the kitchen.

“Anything?” Flint asked.

“No, just the missing statue from out front of Szechuan Delights restaurant.” Oak cocked his head.

Flint pivoted back to his truck.

But Oak surged in front of him. “Let me drive.”

Flint nodded.

Oak handed him his phone. “Navigate for me.”

Flint’s power crackled around his body. It shook him that Oak couldn’t see it, that non-witches were blind to so many other things going on around them. It was shocking, really.

“Keep going on this road. He’s getting on the turnpike, heading east. A message popped up on your phone from Winnie, It says the Philadelphia team is heading out toward the target.”

“That’s fucking awesome.” Oak took a hard right, following the blue speeding dot on the screen.

Oak and Flint raced down the backroads, Oak taking corners at speeds the truck never had before. Flint focused on the dot. They’d been on the turnpike for twenty minutes when he watched the dot take an exit and head up into the middle of the state.

The dot stopped. “He’s not moving.”

“We’re going to get him.” They sped along the highway in silence.

For five minutes, the dot didn’t move. Ten. Fifteen. He watched it blink. “Next exit.” Another ding. He read the message to Oak. “The team is fifteen minutes behind you and closing.”

Oak nodded and sped down the exit ramp.

They followed the blue line on the GPS until they came up a camp road, more rutted than Flint’s own road.

“We should wait for the team.” Oak pulled out his gun.

“What?”

“I had to say it, but we’re not going to. You should shift.” Oak opened the door quietly.

They stepped out of the truck, and Flint smelled it. Smoke. They were a quarter mile away, but he could pick up the scent of a house fire ten miles away. It wasn’t the same as a campfire.

“The cabin’s on fire. Call it in.” Oak took off, running into the woods, Flint next to him. He hadn’t shifted yet.

The dark sedan was backed up to the front door. He could smell Emma under the fire.