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“I’m trying,” Adam said. “I know we’re not, that we don’t⁠—”

“It’s okay, baby,” Vic said, kissing the top of his head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

But what if Adam was?

What if the road he’d been set on carried him away from Vic, sent him so far that he couldn’t find his way back to where they’d been?

They stood there as long as Adam could stand it, then moving out of Vic’s arms, he went to pull the plastic case from beneath the bed. He instantly felt that it was too light.

“What the hell?”

“What’s wrong?” Vic asked.

“The Binder family grimoire. It’s gone.”

Inside was a small, folded note.

Missing something, Binder? Call me.

10

Adam passed Vic the note. It almost fell from his shaking hand.

“It will be okay,” Vic said, understanding immediately.

Adam couldn’t move.

The book itself didn’t matter. Sure, it was an heirloom, but Adam had scanned it and backed it up to the cloud. He’d been willing to use it to get into the Archive Infinite, but that wasn’t the point.

This space, their space, had been violated. Wilcox’s people could reach them anytime, could come and go from their home without warning.

Vic stood on the opposite side of the bed. Adam could tell he wanted to rush over, to hold or comfort him, but Adam couldn’t say what he wanted or needed.

“What are you going to do?” Vic asked.

“Call him, I guess.”

“Do it in the morning, when you’re calmer. He wants you rattled.”

“Yeah, well, mission accomplished.”

“We could go to my mom’s, or a hotel.”

Adam shook his head. Maria wouldn’t let them sleep in the same room, not until they were married, which Adam found a little funny. Otherwise, she seemed fine that her son was with a man, but a little religious tradition clung there, and they couldn’t afford a hotel.

“I’m fine, or I will be. Let me just go strengthen the wards.”

Not that it would help. Wilcox would have sent someone entirely mundane, without any magic at all, so as not to let Adam know.

Just like White.

He’d gotten the drop on Adam, taken him to the hotel . . .

Adam closed his eyes and let out a breath, but he still saw the hammer fall, felt the wet crunch in his shoulder. The coven had healed it. That wound had no scar, but it still clicked when he was working or stretched wrong.

“Baby?” Vic asked quietly.

“I’m okay.”