Lucan grunted, wry despite the weight of the discussion previously under way. "Where've I heard that line before? Famous last words from more than one of us over the course of the past year and a half."
"Yup." Gideon cocked a brow over the rims of his pale blue shades. "Usually followed not long afterward by a call from the field that the situation so assuredly under control has gone suddenly and totally FUBAR."
Lucan himself wasn't above blame on that score, nor was Tegan or Gideon, for that matter. Still, this was Hunter they were talking about.
Tegan seemed to pick up on his line of thinking. "If I hadn't seen that male come back bleeding on occasion from some of his nastier missions, I'd say he was made of steel and cables, not muscle and bone. He's a machine, that one. He doesn't f**k up - it's not in his DNA. There won't be any surprises from Hunter."
"There better not be," Lucan replied. "We've sure as hell got our hands full enough as it is."
With that, the three of them turned their attention back to the plans Lucan had spread out on the table. The blueprints were something he'd been working on privately for the past few months, soon after he began to realize how vulnerable the compound was becoming the longer Dragos eluded the Order's grasp.
It was the design for an all-new headquarters.
He'd already procured the land - a two-hundred-acre tract in Vermont's Green Mountains - and the plans were nearly complete for a sprawling, high-security, state-of-the-art bunker that could house a small town in its many underground chambers and specially designed facilities. It was immense, incredible, exactly the kind of place the Order needed now that Dragos knew the compound's location.
The only problem was, a facility of that size and scope was easily a year or more out of reach.
They needed something today, not down the road.
"Maybe we need to think about splitting up," Gideon suggested after a while. "None of us is without money or holdings of our own. I mean, none of our properties are as secure as this compound is - rather, as secure as it was. But we're not without options. Maybe the smartest, fastest thing would be for each of us to take our mate and move to other locations."
Tegan's green eyes glittered darkly as he slid a grave look at Lucan. There was no need to ask what the other Gen One warrior was thinking. Lucan and he, although historically not always on the best of terms, were the last of the Order's founding members. For some seven centuries -
since the Order's inception - they'd fought side by side, lived through numerous personal hells and triumphs. They had killed for each other, bled for each other ... sometimes even wept for each other. Only to arrive at this place together.
Together, not divided.
Lucan saw a raw, medieval ferocity in Tegan's gaze now. He understood it. He felt it too.
"The Order will not splinter," Lucan replied, terse with fury for what Dragos was forcing them to consider. "We are warriors. Brethren. We are kin. We will not let anyone scatter us in terror."
Gideon nodded, solemn and silent. "Yeah," he said, meeting their gazes. "Fuck me, right?
Total crap idea. I don't know what the hell I was thinking."
They shared a tense chuckle, all of them acutely aware that the rest of the compound had entrusted them to decide the fate of everyone. And their choices were damned few. Dragos had them trapped like fish in a barrel now, and at any given moment he might start shooting.
"Reichen and Claire have properties in Europe," Gideon pointed out. "I mean, not that it would be ideal in terms of vacating the compound here and relocating abroad, let alone at a moment's notice."
Lucan considered the option. "What about the tech lab? We can't afford to take the heat off Dragos, even if we do clear out of here. How quickly would you be able to set up shop in another location?"
"It wouldn't be totally seamless," Gideon replied. "But anything's possible."
"What about Tess?" Tegan's question dropped on them like a hammer. "You really think she'll be up to the kind of move you're talking about? For that matter, do you think Dante is willing to take that risk?"
Tegan shook his head, and Lucan knew he was right. They couldn't ask Tess and Dante to jeopardize her health and well-being, or that of their soon-to-arrive son, on a relocation effort of that magnitude.
Not to mention the fact that Lucan had his doubts about the viability of setting up the Order's new headquarters so far away from Dragos's presumed base of operations. It would be a hell of a lot easier to keep the pressure on the bastard from close range.
As Lucan grappled with the impossibilities of the situation, he caught a movement in his periphery and noticed Lazaro Archer walking past the glass walls of the lab. The Gen One civilian paused at the doors and lifted his hand in a gesture of permission. Lucan glanced to Gideon. "Let him in."
Gideon leaned over to his workstation and pressed a button, releasing the tech lab's doors with a soft hydraulic hiss.
Lazaro Archer strode in, six foot five and formidable, his first-generation genes giving him the look of a warrior even though he'd lived his many hundred years away from combat and bloodshed.
Until Dragos set his sights on Archer's family, that is.
"How is Kellan?" Lucan asked, seeing the stress of all that had happened showing in the somber Breed elder's eyes.
"He is getting better by the hour," Archer replied. "It was the device that was making him so sick, apparently. He's a strong boy. He'll come through all of this, I have no doubt."
Lucan gave him a slow nod. "I'm glad for you both, Lazaro. I regret that your family was caught in the middle of the Order's war with Dragos. You didn't ask for it. You sure as hell didn't deserve all that you've been through."