Just outside the clinic, Lawrence stepped away from the door. He hadn’t eavesdropped. Not really. But he’d needed to know his daughter was still breathing, and the sound of her voice had damn near buckled his knees.
He walked a few steps down the hall and pulled out his phone, fingers shaking as he tapped the number for his VP.
“Yeah?” came the groggy voice on the other end.
“It’s time,” Lawrence said, voice tight. “Iron Saints need to hit the road. Someone came for Sage. She’s not safe here—not alone.”
A pause. Then, “We riding light or bringing the house?”
“We bring the house,” Lawrence growled. “Pack for California.”
Down the hallway, Silas leaned against the doorframe, silent. He hadn’t meant to overhear, but the words were crystal clear. And they were the right words.
Their eye
