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“And you’ve seen no movement in or out of the building?” Brock asked, glancing over at the dark structure as a flurry of fine snow swirled around them.

“We haven’t seen or heard anything,” Rowan said. “As far as tips go, I’ve known a lot better than this.”

“Let’s go have a look,” Tegan said, leading the way.

As they neared the Enforcement Agency vehicles, Brock recognized Freyne among the team of Agents with Rowan. He and two other men leaned against one of the sedans, semiauto pistols holstered and visible under their open winter coats. Brock stared the belligerent Agent down, daring any one of the bunch to make a stupid comment as they approached.

Chase was less subtle. He grinned at his adversary from a couple of nights ago. “Glad to see you back on your feet after I wiped the pavement with your ass the other night. Anytime you want to go again, you let me know.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Freyne sneered, looking just as ready to escalate things with his former comrade.

The exchange of venom was brief, cut short by the opening of the back door of the Agency vehicle. Lazaro Archer stepped out to the street, his harsh face hard with concern. He nodded to the warriors in solemn greeting. “Christophe and I want to be there for the search of the building,” he said, directing his request to Tegan. “You cannot expect us to stand by and wait—”

“That’s exactly what I expect.” Tegan’s voice was firm but not without respect. “We don’t know what we might find in there tonight, Lazaro. It could be nothing. But if it’s not, then you need to let us handle this.”

“My son and I want to help,” he argued.

Tegan’s jaw was set now. “Then help by letting us do our job. Stay here. We’ll all know soon enough if this lead proves out. Chase, stand guard with Rowan’s men until we return. Don’t let them out of your sight.”

Brock didn’t miss the look of irritation on Harvard’s face, but the former Agent fell in as he was instructed. With Freyne and the other two sentries standing by, he assisted Lazaro Archer back into the vehicle and closed the door.

He leaned against the car, arms crossed over his chest, and watched as Brock and the rest of the group moved on toward the dark building.

They approached silently, Tegan’s signals to split up into two teams understood and accepted by both Brock and Kade and by Rowan and his three Agents. With the Enforcement Agency team heading around to a back stairwell, Tegan, Brock, and Kade entered through the front of the vacant shell, into what would have been a lobby.

Once inside, it became clear that the building was not entirely unoccupied. Booted footsteps shuffled on the concrete floor above their heads. From the same general area, the metal leg of a chair scraped sharply. And then, running undercurrent of the wintry wind that howled through the open window cavities all around them, came the muffled sound of whimpering cries.

Tegan gestured toward a stairwell off the main floor. Brock and Kade followed him, all three climbing up the short flight with weapons at the ready.

As they reached the second floor, Brock’s gaze was drawn to a faint light that shone from somewhere near the end of an unfinished apartment. Tegan and Kade saw it, too.

“Humans?” Brock mouthed to his brethren, guessing it might be homeless squatters, since any of his kind could see clearly in the dark and wouldn’t have the need for artificial light.

Tegan motioned for them to keep moving and investigate the source of the small glow.

They crept forward in the dark, the three of them branching off to come at the place from all sides. As they neared, Brock caught a fleeting glimpse of three large male figures in head-to-toe black, each holding a semi-automatic weapon. The masked guards loomed over a smaller figure in the center of the wall-less space.

Kellan Archer.

Holy hell, Freyne’s tip had been good, after all.

The Breed youth’s head hung down over his thin chest, his gingery hair matted and limp, his clothing torn from his captors’ apparent rough handling. His hands were fastened