Page 63 of Thrown into the Mob

But he was gripping the rail, and sweat was dotted on his brow and upper lip. I’d witnessed him as his father was burned alive, and he hadn’t responded like this. His shallow breathing accompanied by the color draining from his face suggested he was suffering from morning sickness.

“Conrad, there’s a bathroom in the panic room if you’re not well.”

His hand found the wall. “It’s not that. This is the reason I suggested this location.”

Huh? Because he was going to throw up over his brother? It didn’t seem like much of a threat to a dragon who’d burned his father to a crisp.

“I’m claustrophobic, and so are all my flight.”

“What?” My screech echoed down the stairs, and Ranger and Hunter raced back up. “Why would you do that?”

“Because they’ll be uncomfortable.”

“Oh, well, that makes me feel better.” Ranger’s sarcasm was in full throttle. “Perhaps we can pat their brows and distract them while we talk.”

“No.” Conrad was fanning his face. “It’s not just that. It’s our fire. Underground we lose possession of it, though not entirely. It sort of fizzles as though someone has squirted water on it.”

“Oh.” Ranger grinned. “I like that.” He rubbed his hands together, and Hunter shoved his brother down the stairs and told him to get on with it.

I went in front of Conrad in case he toppled over but kept looking at him, making sure he was upright and still breathing. His face was encased in pain, and I admired how he was willing to do this.

The panic room was exactly as it was when Hunter unveiled it, with reinforced walls, corridors branching off to secondary rooms, a monitoring station, and dim security lighting. But the sofas and armchairs had been pushed aside and a large table placed in the main room.

Hunter walked through the panic room like he owned it. His daughter was born here. Flint positioned himself at the end of the table, and Conrad stood at the other end.

Conrad’s hands were behind his back like they were when he told me he was pregnant. There was a slight tremor in his fingers, and his eyes kept going to the ceiling as though he was measuring how much concrete was above him.

“Breathe.” It was silly telling him that because it wasn’t like he’d forget.

“I am.”

Twenty minutes later, the dragons arrived. We’d left the door to the panic room open, and Flint’s satellite phone crackled when his guys said the visitors were here. Judging by their footsteps, they were confident as they walked into the main part of the club. But they were floors above us and had no clue they were headed underground.

I was so proud of my mate that he’d submitted himself to the same suffering as his kin so we’d have the advantage.

The footsteps paused, and there was a muttered exchange and more than one curse. But they continued coming down, though their paces were less pronounced.

Evander walked in first, looking as composed as always. I searched his face for signs he was in discomfort, but he appeared like any man attending a business meeting.

Vasik followed with four other dragon shifters. One of them kept looking back toward the stairs, and Vasik's jaw was clenched and his nostrils flared. I hoped they were imagining being crushed with concrete and steel as the walls caved in.

The twins stared at each other across the room. Conrad was rigid with the effort of containing his claustrophobia. Evander appeared unbothered, though I took some delight in witnessing how he white-knuckled his phone. Not that the device was any use down here in the bowels of the earth.

“Brother.”

“Evander.”

“You look well. Pregnancy suits you.”

My mate’s scent filled the enclosed space, and it was heightened I guessed by his distress because it became more intense when his twin walked in. It was so powerful it clogged the air, and I wanted to turn the air-conditioning up. As if it was a competition, Evander’s scent heightened and matched his twin’s.

I moved closer to my mate, and Evander side-eyed me. I refused to show how that glowering look unnerved me, and I dug my nails into my palm. My wolf was snarling and trying to place himself in my gaze, but I shushed him.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet.” Evander addressed Flint. “I know this has been a difficult period for both families.”

“You killed your father and threatened my cousin's mate,” Flint snapped.

“My father's death was a necessary transition of leadership.” Evander folded his hands. “But I'm here to discuss the future, not the past.”