Cora answered the third call, and I narrowed my eyes at her, though she couldn't see me. I knew she'd been screening my calls; she only answered because I never triple-call unless something's wrong.

"Ella?" Her worried voice filled the line. "What's wrong?"

"Where are you, Cora?" I demanded, my tone brooking no argument.

"What—"

"Where. Are. You."

"I'mI'm at the clinic," she stammered. "What's happening?"

"We're sending a car for you, now," I said, glancing at Sinclair, who nodded his confirmation. "Get in it immediately. Don't speak to anyone else. Don't ask questions."

"Ella," she hesitated, her voice wavering. "I can't—"

"This isn't a request, Cora," I growled. "They came for him. They tried to take Rafe. We're sending a car, and you're getting in it."

I heard a sharp intake of breath, a moment of hesitation, then her agreement. "All right," she said, her anxious nod palpable. "Okay. I'll do it."

I exhaled, relieved, and nodded. "Okay. I love you, Cora," I said, my voice wavering slightly.

"I love you too," she replied, a hint of regret in her voice. But before I could ask more, she hung up.

"The car's five minutes from her," Sinclair murmured, squeezing my hand. "We'll get her. It will be fine."

"Okay," I said, closing my eyes and resting my head against the leather seat.

Silence reigned for the rest of the hour-long drive away from the city and deep into the forest.

I was surprised when the car slowed. Sinclair sat up, looking around with a satisfied expression that signaled our arrival. It didn't look like we were anywhere.

"Good," he said as the car reached the end of what was essentially a dirt trail. "Honestly, the past five minutes have been a very uncomfortable ride, and Rafe let us know he wasn't happy."

"Made itwhere?" I asked, surveying the surrounding trees.

"Here," he said, nodding to the driver, who pressed a button on the ceiling—one usually reserved for a garage door opener. My mouth dropped open as the earth parted before us, sliding upward like a great creature's jaws, revealing a metal tunnel bathed in orange light.

"Oh my god," I murmured, my eyes widening. "That is so creepy."

"It's cool," Sinclair corrected, smirking slightly.

"I mean, it's impressive," I continued as we entered the tunnel and began a steep descent. "But if you're claustrophobic, it'snot ideal."

"Says my little mate," Sinclair murmured, turning to the window to hide his smirk, "who ripped someone's throat out not two hours ago."

"Yes," I sighed, shaking my head and placing a hand on Rafe, who stopped his screeching and gazed in wonder at the sudden change of color. "So imagine what I would have done if he was trying to entomb me."

Sinclair chuckled, but we remained silent as the car traveled a long way down the tunnel before opening into a wide, underground space resembling a large car park. A few other cars were parked there, but the light dusting of dust suggested they hadn't been moved recently.

I inhaled deeply, feeling suddenly safe, if only for the moment. I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath, but perhaps a part of me had expected another ambush. It was good, honestly, to be here, underground, where I hoped no one could find us.

The driver pulled into an empty space, and Sinclair and I quickly unbuckled our seatbelts. The other car pulled up beside us, and Sinclair's men also exited.

"Is it all underground?" I asked, looking around.

"Most of it," Sinclair replied, "for safety. Though there are some living quarters that extend into the forest, if we deem it safe to use them."

I nodded, understanding, and lifted Rafe's carrier as I exited the car and closed the door. Then, I followed my mate and our two guards into the bunker.

I grimaced. The entire structure was intensely military. As we walked down the hallway, I peered into the rooms, noting that the walls, floors, and ceilings—and the hallway itself—were made of gleaming metal. The sparse furniture was rough and utilitarian. I sighed, wishing for my comfortable home.

But then I reminded myself that my bedroom was currently covered in corpses and blood. So, this looked pretty good for now.

Sinclair stopped at a door near the end of the hallway and opened it. I peered inside, seeing a small living area that, thankfully, contained a queen-sized bed. I entered as Sinclair gave orders to his men about settling in while we waited for Roger, Henry, and Cora. Then, he followed me into the room.

"Is this all right?" he asked, surveying the basic accommodations.

"It's perfect," I breathed, setting Rafe's carrier on the bed and smiling at him as I began to unbuckle him. "It will do just fine. Do you havea plan for what to do next?"

"The start of one," Sinclair sighed, running a hand through his hair and staring at the door.

"You can go," I said, raising my eyebrows and holding the baby up against my chest, allowing him to look around over my left shoulder. "I know you have work to do. I'll be okay."

"I don't want to leave you, Ella," Sinclair growled, his eyes blazing with anger, fear, and the knowledge that he'd nearly lost us both.

"It's okay," I whispered, meeting his gaze, showing him I wasn't afraid. "It's safe—you know it is. Go do your work. And when Cora comes, she'll sit with me. All right?"

He hesitated, so I continued.

"You have to work to keep us safe, Dominic," I pointed out. "You can do more to help us strategizing with your men than sitting with me in this metal room."

"Fine," Sinclair growled, hating it but nodding. He pointed to an intercom on the wall. "White button," he said, "speaks everywhere. You need anything, you call. Yes?"

I nodded and smiled, showing my understanding. He gave me one last lingering look and left, the metal door clanging shut behind him.

"Well," I said to Rafe, holding him so I could look at his cute little face. "It's just me and you now, kiddo." He gurgled and smiled, making me laugh. I shook my head before settling him back on my shoulder.

"And they call me trouble," I murmured, closing my eyes and holding my little boy close. "Nobody's come to kidnap me in a while now. Trouble Jr. is right."