“Sunset,” he said. “Let’s find Konrad.”

Zach hesitated when they reached the car. Cade was in the driver’s seat, but Zach wouldn’t get inside.

Cade got out again and looked at Zach over the roof. “What?” he asked.

Zach looked troubled. “Why are we going after Konrad?”

“Nothing has changed. He’s still the priority.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Yes,” Cade said simply.

Zach scowled. “Ask a stupid question . . .” He stepped away from the car door.

Cade wanted to get back on the trail. Get back to the hunt. But he bit back his impatience. “I know you’re not used to speaking directly. But you need to start.”

“I think maybe we should get back to D.C. Regroup. Consult with the president.”

“There’s no time,” Cade said.

“Someone tried to blow us up, Cade,” Zach said. “You don’t think maybe we should pause and reconsider strategy?”

“No.”

“So that’s it? You’re just right and I’m just wrong? You ever think that this vendetta you have against Konrad is clouding your judgment?”

“He has the answers we need. It’s that simple.”

“He didn’t plant that bomb, Cade. Holt did. You told me that. So why is the CIA trying to kill us?”

While one part of his brain talked to Zach, Cade was forced to pause and reconsider. Not his course of action—Zach was wrong there—but he had been too focused on his prey. He hadn’t considered another threat.

“You’re right,” Cade said, interrupting whatever snide remark Zach was making. “Get in the car.”

Zach looked confused. “I am? Wait, what?”

Cade started the engine. Zach got in the passenger side.

They drove to the site of the safe house. Now it was abandoned, cordoned off by police tape. Nothing but rubble.

Cade got out of the car and walked around.

Zach followed. “What are we looking for?”

“I don’t know,” Cade admitted.

How had Holt had managed to plant the bomb? There was no way anyone could have followed them to the safe house. He would have noticed. Vampires had been returning to their lairs for centuries—not one would have survived if it were possible for humans to track them unnoticed.

The only answer: a traitor. And not just any traitor. Someone with access to the highest levels of the White House. Someone who knew the location of the safe house, of all Cade’s safe houses, who knew all his secrets.

He hated to admit it, even to himself, but Zach was right. The hunt was far more complex—and dangerous—than he’d allowed himself to think.

Worse, Cade couldn’t protect the boy. Not until he knew what he was facing.

There was only one thing to do.

“I don’t need you here,” he said to Zach. “Go home.”

“Excuse me?”

He reached into his pocket and took out the rest of the money. He tossed the wad of bills to Zach.

“Take this. Go to the airport. Go home.”

Zach caught the cash one-handed. But he still looked baffled. “Wait, what are you going to do?”

“I’ve still got work here.”

“Then I do too.”

“No soap,” Cade said.

Zach looked at him. “ ‘No soap’? What does that even mean?”

“Sorry. It’s an old expression, meaning—”

“I don’t give a shit. Talk to me, Cade. You can’t just send me away like I’m the errand boy. I’m supposed to help you—”

“You can’t,” Cade said simply. “You were right. You are not ready for this. Go back to Griff. Give him the report. Tell him I will be in contact as soon as possible.”

Zach looked hurt. “I wasn’t trying to . . . I mean, I didn’t mean I wanted to quit . . .”

Cade turned away.

“Go home, Zach,” he said.

He was already working out his strategy. It was a new kind of prey. A new hunt.

Cade ran across the street, leaving Zach standing by the car. He was gone in seconds.

He needed information. He was sure he knew where he could get it.