Prince of Darkness

Book 17: Dark Protectors

by Rebecca Zanetti

Genres: Vampires; Witches; Romantic Suspense

Synopsis

Unknown to humans, beyond daylight lies a world of intoxicating darkness where deadly creatures prowl with insatiable desires and unbelievable power: vampires, demons, witches, shifters. When vulnerable humans find themselves thrust into that realm, they’ll never be the same. . .

In the aftermath of war, a fragile peace hovers between the Kurjan nation and the Dark Protector coalition. Yet amid labyrinthine politics and intrigue, Vero Phoenix, a Kurjan, stands apart. He has lived devoid of legacy or lineage—until the day he backed his newfound brother as king, putting himself into the treacherous position of enforcer and shield. Yet there is another thorn in his side, no less vexing, undeniably captivating—and all-too-human . . .

Lyrica Graves was once ensnared by Kurjan captors and now embodies defiance and freedom as she guides other women to independence and modernity. She is particularly amused—and breathtakingly challenged—by her battles with Vero. But their clashing also belies a sizzling connection, a dark attraction between supernatural and fully human that threatens their chosen destinies and makes them a target for far too many bloodthirsty enemies . . .

Release date: April 29, 2025

Publisher: Lyrical Press

Print pages: 304

Sample

Acknowledgments

So many books in, and I’m still amazed by the incredible people who make this journey possible. To every reader, supporter, and believer in this world—thank you for your passion, your excitement, and your love for these characters. To the dream team behind the scenes, the family and friends who cheer me on, and everyone who helps bring these stories to life—you have my deepest gratitude. I’d especially like to shout out thank yous to:

Big Tone for being my rock, my fire, and the one who always believes in me—even when the world I’m creating is filled with chaos, danger, and impossible love stories. Thank you for being my hero, my partner, and my biggest supporter. You’re the steady heartbeat in all the madness, and I couldn’t do this without you. Here’s to forever, in this world and every other.

Our brilliant and talented daughter, Karlina—your artistry and creativity inspire me every day. Thank you for being my light, my sounding board, and for bringing beauty into this world in ways only you can. Watching you create is a reminder of the magic that lives in all of us. Never stop dreaming, because the world is better with your art in it.

Our son Gabe—builder of bridges, solver of problems, and quiet storm of strength. Watching you take lessons from the field and carry them into the real world has been nothing short of extraordinary. You’ve always had a way of making the impossible look easy—whether it’s conquering the gridiron or tackling the challenges of engineering. It’s a bit supernatural, if you ask me. Keep building, keep leading, and keep showing the world what you’re made of.

Caitlin Blasdell, my brilliant agent with the uncanny ability to see the big picture—and the small tweaks that make it all come together. Your insights are like magic, guiding every twist and turn with precision and care. Thank you for believing in this world and for always knowing just what it needs, even if it’s a quick tweak…through the whole book. You’re a force, and I’m so lucky to have you in my corner. Thank you also to the entire Liza Dawson Agency for your support.

Elizabeth May, my fearless editor at Kensington—here we are on our second book together, and I can only hope you knew what you were getting into when you took on four front-list series with me! Your sharp eye, endless patience, and unwavering support mean the world to me. Thank you for helping me shape these stories and for tackling the chaos with grace and humor. Here’s to many more adventures together.

Thank you also to everyone who works so hard at Kensington: Alexandra Nicolajsen, Steven Zacharias, Adam Zacharias, Alicia Condon, Lynn Cully, Jackie Dinas, Jane Nutter, Lauren Jernigan, Vida Engstrand, Barbara Bennett, Sarah Selim, Kait Johnson, Justine Willis, Renee Rocco, Carly Sommerstein, Cassandra Farrin, Sharon Turner Mulvihill, and Kelsy Thompson. We’ve published more than forty stories together, and I really do feel like I’m part of the family.

A special thank you to the Rebels, my fierce and loyal street team—you’re the pulse of this world’s magic. Eternal gratitude to my social media sorceresses, Anissa Beatty and Kristin Ashenfelter, and to Rebels Madison Fairbanks, Joan Lai, Kimberly Frost, Heather Frost, Gabi Brockelsby, Leanna Feazel, Karen Clementi, Suzi Zuber, and Asmaa Qayyum.

Thanks to my incredible publicity teams, Book Brush and Writerspace, for wielding the creative magic that brings my vision to life and for helping me forge lasting connections with readers in ways that truly matter.

Thank you to my family, friends, and loved ones who have stood by me through every late-night plot twist, test, and moment of doubt: Gail and Jim English, Kathy and Herbie Zanetti, Debbie and Travis Smith, Stephanie and Don West, Jessica and Jonah Namson, and Chelli and Jason Younker. Your unwavering support, love, and belief in me light the way even in the darkest moments. I’m endlessly grateful for each and every one of you.

Chapter One

In modern vernacular, or rather, the human vernacular, today fucking sucked.

Vero Phoenix sat behind an ancient iron-and-oak desk, his body screaming for action. For anything. He’d even climb an ice-covered tree if that meant moving his legs.

“Mr., ah, Phoenix?” A petite, dark-haired female, who looked around twenty but was actually only seventeen years old, hovered hesitantly in the doorway of his office.

He had a damn office—as well as a surname. He somewhat understood the reasoning of creating family units by employing surnames, but adjusting took time. Just a month before, he’d discovered he had a brother named Paxton Phoenix, so when Pax became their king, Vero figured he should adopt the surname. If nothing else, it showed their enemies where his allegiance lay. “Yes?”

The female paled. “Sir, I mean, um, Mr. Phoenix?”

He bit back a snarl. Smiling was too much for him right now, so he tried to keep his brows from slashing down. Apparently that looked frightening—for some unfathomable reason. “Genevieve, you can call me Vero. Remember?” He couldn’t do anything about the hoarseness of his low voice, so he didn’t try.

She flushed from her chest to her hairline, her bluish-green gaze darting away. “Yes, sir. I mean, I’m sorry, sir.”

Jesus. “It’s okay.” He had to find somebody else to work as his secretary. Or administrative assistant. How in the hell did he have an administrative assistant? “What?” His voice sounded rusty because he rarely spoke.

She hovered, her shoulders down. “Um, Miss, I mean Ms., ah, Lyrica is here to see you.”

Well, double fuck. “Fine. Please send her in.” Now he sounded like some human stockbroker. Or worse, an attorney. If he had half a brain, he’d take off for the Himalayas and live by himself in a cabin blanketed with snow. Maybe he could make friends with a bear.

Screw that. He’d never had a real friend. Sure, he’d thought he had, but Hunter had ended up being a two-faced, lying, spying asshole. If Vero made friends with a bear, it would eat him.

That would be preferable to his current situation.

Lyrica Graves swept inside, somehow looking both regal and indignant while wearing jeans and a scarlet sweater that fit her curvy body perfectly, her cheeks red from the cold. She’d apparently ditched her coat in the outer office but still wore thick blue snow boots.

If he asked her to just shoot him, would she?

Her pretty brown eyes sparked. “You are totally screwing all this up.”

Yep. She’d definitely shoot him. He considered making the request for all of five seconds, then decided he didn’t want to give her that much satisfaction. In the saddle of life, she was a burr biting his skin, and she had been for the past weeks as they’d tried to bring the Kurjan nation, his nation, into modern times. “What do you want now?”

She drew to her full and unimpressive height of about five foot six inches and tossed her head in a way only angry females could achieve.

His body reacted instantly, going hard as a rock, head to toe—and worse yet, everywhere in between.

An unholy, feminine, and unreal peach bloomed beneath her smooth skin. “I heard you told Eudokia Guavras she could stay with her mate.”

If he had an emotion, he’d blink. Instead, he kept his voice level and forced himself to talk. “I spoke with her—alone—for more than an hour. She wants to remain with her mate. I thought that allowing females to do as they wish was your goal?”

She put both hands on her voluptuous hips, her eyes glittering like a dark disco ball. “Allow? Did you say allow?”

Damn it. That was one of the expressions he was supposed to banish. But the word fit the situation. He had allowed the female to stay with her mate of more than five hundred years. She’d begged and pleaded to do so. He shoved down irritation. “Yes. She loves her mate. They’ve been together since the Byzantine Empire, and she has borne him three sons. Good ones.” All three were, in fact, excellent soldiers.

Lyrica lifted her face to the ceiling as if he was just too stupid to deal with at the moment. “Eudokia doesn’t know what she wants. She has been a Kurjan mate for centuries, man. She has no clue about the life that could be hers out in the world.”

Yet her mate and her sons would remain with the Kurjan nation. A headache loomed at the base of Vero’s skull, and he allowed his jaw to firm. Now wasn’t the time to once again correct her that he wasn’t a man. Not human. Not even close. “Perhaps Eudokia doesn’t care about the outside world.”

Lyrica’s chin lowered. With her dark hair curling over her shoulders and her smooth skin begging for a kiss, she looked far more appealing than dangerous. Like a kitten hissing at a cobra, clueless to the dangerous bite about to strike her. “That’s because she’s had no exposure to freedom.”

He stood, unable to sit any longer. “We are not having this argument again.”

She took a step toward him. Completely misunderstanding the moment, as usual. How did she not see the killer lurking beneath his black uniform? The animal, barely leashed, that heated his very soul?

“We are not arguing,” she said through gritted teeth. “We are discussing the situation.”

Discussing? The female had no right to smell like fresh juniper berries while challenging him with every movement. No right at all. “What do you want, Lyrica?” he asked, curling his fingers into fists and resting them on the innocuous desktop.

For the first time, she faltered. “I—I’m not sure. I guess I want to show her the world. The possibilities available to her.”

“Why?” He truly didn’t understand. Eudokia had mated a high-ranking Kurjan soldier, which gave her status. She’d given birth to three strong and able-bodied sons who adored her. She also routinely won the pie bake-off every autumn during the fall season, when life calmed down. What more could a female want?

Lyrica rolled her eyes this time. “How do you know what you’re missing if you have no clue what’s out there? These females who’ve lived with your people for eons? They’re like three-dimensional beings who’ve been forced to live in a two-dimensional world for centuries. They can’t remotely comprehend that third dimension…until they actually look up.”

If he shot himself, he’d just take too long to heal. The only way to truly end his torment was to cut off his head today…and fuck him. He couldn’t do it. His loyalty to a nation that had wronged him—to a brother who didn’t understand him—to a friend who’d betrayed him…was absolute. He didn’t make a bit of sense, and yet, he wouldn’t abandon those who’d abandoned him. For now. Every cell in his immortal body knew with certainty that his end would come bloody, and it would no doubt come soon.

Even immortality had its limits—a good beheading from an enemy lay in his future.

It was a pity he truly didn’t care.

Worse yet, this stubborn female, who courted danger she couldn’t even see, called to him. Who would protect her if he left? He couldn’t worry about that, nor could he think about that wide, three-dimensional world that kept tempting him. So much so that his dreams centered on blue oceans and worlds through portals that might finally be opening for him—if he’d been somebody else. Somebody destined to live after the current year. After Paxton consolidated power next week at the Convexus. If he didn’t get the powerful coalition of forty Cyst soldiers to join with them again during the night of the Kurjan Dark Solstice, they wouldn’t survive as a nation.

Phenomenal soldiers, the Cyst traditionally served as the spiritual leaders for the nation, and without them, this new world would never work. Most had left when Paxton had become their king. Vero needed to focus all his attention on securing them back with his people.

But this female. She tempted Vero—and failed to hear her own siren call. He cleared his throat but knew it wouldn’t make him sound any less Kurjan. While his vocal cords weren’t quite as mangled as a demon’s, but they were close. “You need to understand that some females want to stay here, with their mates.”

Her nostrils flared as she drew in air, obviously biting her tongue before speaking. “No female wants to live subjected to a male. Ever.”

His temper licked at the base of his neck. “Nobody is being subjected.” Not anymore, anyway. He crossed around the desk, allowing himself to enjoy the scent of berries—just for a moment. “Eudokia loves her mate, and if she feels submissive to him, it seems to work. They have a good union.” Her eyes widened, barely, as he approached her.

Her chin lowered. “He’s possessive.”

“Of course he’s possessive. She’s his mate.”

Lyrica instantly shoved him, both hands on his chest. He captured her wrists and pulled her body in closer, his head lowering, his blood thundering through his veins.

* * * *

Fire lanced through Lyrica, head to toe. Anger and something else. A breath-stealing sensation that winged wild flutters through her abdomen. “I really don’t like you,” she snapped through gritted teeth, ignoring those flutters.

Vero lowered his head even more, and shards of black cut through the unholy blue of his eyes. “I don’t like you, either.”

Her legs trembled. While Vero wasn’t as tall as some Kurjan soldiers, at only about six foot seven, he still stood a foot taller than her. And he was broader across the chest than most Kurjans. The Kurjans, who procreated only males, had black hair tipped with red. Not Vero. The pure black mass of his hair curled below his ears. His skin wasn’t as pale as most of his people’s, either. In fact, out in the real world, he could nearly pass for human. Almost. If he wore dark sunglasses to veil his eyes.

She had to stop dreaming about those eyes. “Let go of me.”

He glanced at his hands, wrapped easily around her small wrists. His head jerked and he released her as if she’d burst into flames. “My apologies.”

Yet another difference in him. She hadn’t heard any other Kurjan soldier apologize. Ever.

He crossed massive arms across his chest. Why? To keep from grabbing her again? “Genevieve,” he called out softly.

The door instantly opened. “Yes, sir?” Genevieve hovered on the threshold.

His sigh held heat. “Set up an appointment for Eudokia to meet with Lyrica again.”

Genevieve released the door, turned, and could be heard running down the hallway to the main room of the lodge that temporarily served as their headquarters.

“You terrify her.” Lyrica stared at the closed oak door before returning her focus to him.

“I know.” He leaned back against the monstrous desk. “She has a brain.”

Lyrica’s gaze narrowed as she studied him. “Can you blame her? When your people kidnapped us, one of your Cyst generals beat the crap out of her when she protested.” The Cyst were the ultimate soldiers and spiritual leaders to the Kurjan nation. They were also a bag of dicks.

“He’s dead,” Vero said flatly. “So I can’t exactly beat him senseless to even the score, can I?”

Her head snapped back and heat flared down her torso. “That’s your solution?”

The impossibly hard angles of his face didn’t soften. “Yes.”

How could she even start to explain why that was wrong? “Solving violence with violence is not the answer.”

One of his dark eyebrows rose. “You just shoved me.”

Huh. Good point. “I didn’t think I could hurt you.” The idea seemed ridiculous. He stood twice her size and remained immortal.

“My feelings are devastated.”

She blinked. “Did you just make a joke?”

He shrugged one muscled shoulder. “I’m hilarious to most who meet me.”

Another joke? No. Absolutely not. He could not be this dangerously sexy and also have a sense of humor. No. She couldn’t stand him, and he still overwhelmed her dreams in a way that left her feeling desperate and needy. She absolutely could not like him. If she did, even a little, what then? Her work was way too important for her to be distracted. Plus, his picture could be plastered under “wounded and solitary animal” in the dictionary. As an empath, very rarely she could feel the desperate pain and hollow loneliness he hid so well, since he was an immortal.

She cleared her throat. “I need you to sign up for speed dating tomorrow night.”

He straightened. “No.” Somehow, his guttural voice lowered even more.

Now she crossed her arms. “Listen. Your people have spent eons kidnapping enhanced females from around the world, and right now, you won’t let any of them go free. Some of them, after being guaranteed they control their choices, are interested in getting to know Kurjan males. Immortality is an impressive draw.”

Kurjans were male, only. They passed on their K chromosome with every birth, making only males. Much like the vampires only created males as well. Like all immortals, Kurjan males could mate with other species, including enhanced human females. While the females would not become Kurjans, or vampires, or demons, their chromosomal pairs would increase to grant them immortality after a mating—which meant they’d be bonded forever. “As the second-in-command for the entire Kurjan nation, you could set a good example by attending the evening. It’ll only take two hours.”

“No.” His gaze bored into her.

She opened her mouth to argue just as the door opened again and a young Kurjan soldier poked his head into the room, his black hair tipped with red. “Vero? We have a line on a rogue Kurjan group that recently kidnapped several enhanced human females. They’ve established a rough camp in Alaska. You mentioned you were ready for a fight?”

“Thank fucking God. I’ll get my knives.” Vero sidestepped her and didn’t look back.

Temper jerked her around to watch his retreating back. “I hope you get stabbed in the neck,” she yelled.

“One can only wish,” he returned before disappearing around a corner.

She clenched her hands into fists. The man was the most irritating person she’d ever met. Yet he wasn’t a man. The male. Yeah. That took some talent, to be the biggest pain in the butt of all the males in all the species.

Hurrying out of his office, she bypassed Genevieve and strode down the hallway to her own office, where she took several deep breaths. Why did he affect her like this? She couldn’t breathe when the jackass stood in her vicinity.

It took thirty minutes of deep breathing to completely calm herself. Then she sat and primly typed notes into her files regarding the occupants of the camp. All two hundred of them. Finally, not worrying about Vero out on a mission at all, she sat back. That male was not hers to worry about. Her job kept her more than busy. Once again, she’d missed supper.

Genevieve hovered in the doorway again. “Um, Lukas had to go train with the soldiers, so I don’t have an escort back to the barracks. It’s dark outside.”

Lyrica paused as the woman’s emotions hit her like a punch. Warmth and giddiness? “Lukas?” She vaguely remembered the young soldier being around lately.

“Um, yeah. Lukas Macrame. His grandmother chose their new last name.” Genevieve smiled. “He’s sweet.”

Sweet? Just because Lukas might look twenty didn’t mean he wasn’t two hundred years old. “You’re not dating him, are you?”

“Of course not.” The emotions rolling from the girl said otherwise. Then she looked toward the darkened window. “I don’t want to walk alone.”

Lyrica needed to shield her empathic abilities better. Fear did wash from the girl to her. Now she needed to figure out more about this Lukas. “It’s okay, Genevieve. I’m happy to walk with you.” The barracks sat only a couple of minutes away, but darkness felt heavy this high in the Canadian mountains.

“Thank you.” The rush of gratitude warmed Lyrica’s skin. As did the fact that Genevieve was loosening up enough to trust her. Lyrica, after her time as a mathematician who worked in crisis management for corporations in financial trouble, often felt a little bossy, and she kept trying to temper that instinct. Yet she had to be organized, and bossiness made that happen.

She drew on her coat and scarf, following Genevieve from the office, through the lodge, and outside. The freezing cold instantly blasted into her. She shivered but still took comfort. The best times of her young and often unsteady childhood had involved visiting or living with her grandfather in the mountains of Alaska.

Lyrica walked briskly with Genevieve huddled next to her as a couple of patrol soldiers passed by, nodding at them. The sprawling camp seemed as safe as possible, yet these immortals were still a dangerous unknown. Lyrica’s foot slipped on the ice and she regained her balance as they hustled past a maintenance shed.

Genevieve suddenly stopped and grabbed Lyrica’s arm. “There’s something…over there,” she whispered, pointing toward a parked snowplow.

Lyrica followed her gaze and caught the faint outline of something sticking out—bare toes, frozen over with ice and already blue. “Stay here,” she said quickly.

“No.” Genevieve clutched her coat buttons tighter as they moved cautiously closer.

Rounding the snowplow, Lyrica stopped abruptly. Frozen solid, a nude female body lay sprawled awkwardly, as if she’d fallen and never moved again. Bruises covered her neck, which appeared mottled with frost.

“Oh my God,” Genevieve breathed next to Lyrica. “She’s dead.”

Chapter Two

Vero sat back against the smooth interior of the Phantom Hawk helicopter, his fingers itching for the control panel up front. He’d designed the entire craft front to back and didn’t like somebody else piloting it, but he flanked Paxton with Hunter on Pax’s other side.

When Vero had stepped up and forced his half-brother to become king of the Kurjan nation, he committed himself to protecting the soldier at any cost. There had already been two attempts on Paxton’s life during the last three weeks as they’d negotiated and nearly come to an agreement, a treaty of sorts with the Realm.

For Vero’s entire life, the Realm had been their most dangerous enemy. As a coalition of other immortal beings like vampires, demons, witches, fairies, and shifters, they had been a formidable foe. The idea that they were becoming allies still kept Vero up at night.

Had he made a colossal mistake in declaring Paxton their new king? Since Paxton was the oldest heir, it was his birthright.

Probably.

With the Realm treaty almost in place, now Vero only had to worry about the Convexus next week, where Paxton and he needed to draw the Cyst coalition back into the Kurjan nation. The meeting had to take place at headquarters during the Kurjan Dark Solstice, which only occurred every one thousand years, or any chance they had might be lost forever. Surviving as only half a nation seemed nearly impossible.

Paxton glanced at him sideways. “This is a hell of a craft. You really designed this?”

An unwilling pride filtered through Vero and he banished it instantly. “Yes.” He took a moment to study the screens across from him that glowed and displayed real-time battlefield data, enemy positions, and mission objectives. Tension-filled quiet blanketed the craft, which ran silently since he’d built it with fusion-powered engines.

He studied his half-brother from the side of his eye. Was there any resemblance between them? If so, he couldn’t see it. Paxton was as tall as Vero and as broad, but he had otherworldly silverly-blue eyes. They were a cross between polished steel and an electric wire. Both males had thick black hair, and Vero supposed their bone structure might be slightly similar. Both angled, both sharp, and Vero’s eyes were blue, unlike most Kurjans, who had purple or red eyes and black hair tipped with red or red hair tipped with black.

The fact that Hunter sat on the other side of Paxton still with the implants in his face making him look like a Kurjan was an abomination. Hunter was a demon-vampire mix and had undergone surgery to appear Kurjan. He’d been undercover since he was sixteen years old. Deceiver.

If Pax noticed Vero’s tension, he didn’t let on. “Tell me again about the helicopter’s camouflage,” he said.

Vero rolled his shoulders to loosen them before the battle to come. “The exterior is enveloped in an adaptive camouflage that renders the helicopter invisible to radar and the naked eye.”

Paxton shook his head. “That’s awesome, but what I want to know is how.”

“Oh,” Vero said. “I created a heat-dissipating system that cools exhaust emissions and eliminates any infrared signatures that might expose us. In addition, the external panels project images of the surrounding environment and render the aircraft invisible to the naked eye. Nobody knows we’re coming and nobody knows we’re here.”

Hunter leaned forward to look at Vero across Paxton’s broad chest. “I knew you were the smartest guy around. When you said you were working on a top secret project, I had no idea it would be something this cool.”

Vero stared at him implacably. “I didn’t trust you as much as you thought I did.” He turned his gaze back to watch the enemy on the screen, addressing Hunter for the first time in three weeks..

Paxton cut him a look but remained silent.

“All right, boys,” Hope’s chipper voice came through his ear-comm. “You’re about a minute away.”

Vero jolted, then regained his composure. It was an odd experience to hear a female voice coming through the comm lines during a mission. According to Paxton, his young mate had the most strategic mind in the entire Realm.

“Vero, you good?” she asked.

Why was she singling him out? “Affirmative,” he said.

“Wonderful. I made sure that you had two of the Realm’s newest knives in your pack. I want your opinion about them.”

Paxton stretched out his legs. “What about me?”

“You got one too,” she said, chuckling. “But you’re not as accustomed to the Kurjan fighting methods as Vero.”

Yeah, that’s because Vero was fighting against his own people. His shoulders stiffened.

Paxton cracked his knuckles. “I’m reading twenty-two heat signatures on the screen, but the picture is fuzzing in and out.”

“I can’t help that,” Hope said. “Our satellites are out of range, and the ones we’ve hacked are moving and rather out of date. Plus, there’s quite the heavy cloud cover, but I can confirm the twenty-two heat signatures. It looks to me like there are two main structures and then several smaller tents scattered around. These folks are just setting up a camp.”

Paxton nodded. “Tell us about their location.”

“They’re in Kelly Creek, a small unincorporated area in the middle of the mountains. It’s going to be cold,” Hope said slowly. “It’s pretty much exactly what you suspected.”

The monitor in front of them fuzzed again.

“Our screen has gone blind,” Pax said. “Tell me what you see.”

Rapid typing came over the line. “I can tell you what I saw five minutes ago. It looks like there are twelve heat signatures in the structure closest to the river. They’re not moving much, and my guess is that these are the captured women. It’s after midnight there, so everyone’s asleep.”

It had taken them about two hours to reach the destination. “What about the other structure?” Vero asked.

More typing came across the line. “I see six people prone, obviously sleeping.”

“So that’s eighteen. We’re missing four,” Hunter said.

“Yes. I’d say those four are patrolling. We saw some movement before we lost the feed,” Hope said.

Vero ensured his combat boots were tightly secured.

“All right,” Paxton said. “Stay in my ear, baby.”

“Always,” Hope said cheerfully.

Vero frowned at the still-fuzzy screen. What would it be like to be that close to a female? He wasn’t entirely sure he’d allow his mate to be part of the fighting force, but then again, Hope remained safely back at headquarters. He had to admit the plan she put together was excellent.

The pilot motioned toward them. “Thirty seconds.”

Vero. . .