Ryan grunted and let the bag of concrete slide off his shoulder onto the pile of its brothers.

Last one.

They were still repairing the damage from the last time a Thallian soldier followed them home. If only construction were as easy as destruction.

Ryan wiped the moisture off his grimy forehead and jogged up the steps to the plaza behind the Davalos Castle where he’d left a watter bottle. The odd heatwave had turned the normally cool San Francisco climate into something more like a furnace, and while he preferred warmer weather to the cold, the sweat took some getting used to.

The wrought iron tables on the red-brick plaza shimmered with heat they’d absorbed from the direct sunlight. Ryan snatched up his water bottle from the nearest table and drained it in a single swallow.

Squinting at the sun, he cast a look across the lush lawns of the estate, down the hillsides and across the bay to where the city of San Francisco bustled noisily in the distance. Even the Golden Gate Bridge seemed to be baking in the heat.

If Karl were here, he’d tell us we were all sissies.

He’d probably be right. San Francisco had nothing on Oklahoma summers, or so Ryan had been told.

Ryan scowled at his empty water bottle and headed for the doors at the end of the plaza. He could have refilled his water bottle in the commercial-use kitchen, but Mia usually preferred it remain closed when they weren’t hosting an event.

He ducked through the main entryway of the institute and into the residential portion of the castle, which was blocked off from the museum side. Mia’s kitchen welcomed him with her smell even if she wasn’t in it, the soft scent of lavender and lemon and cheerful spring mornings and the dizzying brush of her kisses.

Ryan positioned his water bottle beneath the kitchen faucet and filled it.

He didn’t have much interest in seeing Washington, DC. History had been his worst subject in school, followed closely by political science. So spending a few days in the nation’s capital didn’t exactly sound like something he’d like to do with his spare time.

Being able to spend a few free days with Mia definitely would have been worth it, though.

A smile tugged at his mouth.

Mia.

He’d loved her from the moment he met her when he was eight years old, long before he even knew what love was. But that didn’t matter. They’d been inseparable as children, climbing trees and chasing minnows in the cold streams of Tincup, Colorado. And now?

The odd fluttering in his chest that always appeared when he thought about Mia reached a new height.

She said yes.

Mia hadn’t even hesitated when he popped the question on one knee. Maybe some day he’d tell her about the trauma he’d gone through to even get the ring, no thanks to Karl and his genuine attempt to help. None of them would ever be able to eat at a food truck again without remembering Tia Maria’s Taco Emporium and the absurd chase through the city to find the ring Karl had lost.

The water in his bottle overflowed, and he shut the faucet off, wiping the dampness from the bottle.

A snicker sounded from the stairwell. “So how long does the puppy-dog phase last?”

Ryan smirked at his blue-haired friend, who lounged on the banister with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. “Puppy-dog phase?”

“The sad moping when Mia ain’t around?”

Ronnie clasped his pale hands at his heart and made a wavering, squealing sound, nearly dislodging his sunglasses from the crown of his head as he shook his head back and forth dramatically.

“Shut up.” Ryan laughed.

“Seriously, Ryan. You got it bad.” Ronnie walked down the stairs and sat at one of the counter bar stools, the overhead lights catching oddly in his silver eyes.

“Yeah, I know.”

Ronnie stood on the rails of the barstool and reached over the counter for the cookie jar Mia kept stocked. He withdrew a frosted sugar cookie from the jar and munched on it.

“You could’ve gone with them.”

“I thought about it.” Ryan took another drink of his water. “The grown-up part of me thinks I should have wanted to go just to support Sam.”

“Sam’s got all the support he needs. Might better for him if he didn’t have so much.”

Ryan smiled.

Ronnie wasn’t wrong. Sam had never encountered any challenge that wasn’t as easy for him to overcome as breathing. Well, not any challenge. No matter how he succeeded at the rest of life and everything else, mastering his armor had thrown a wrench in Sam’s carefully laid plans.

“You ain’t worried?”

“About what?” Ryan pushed the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows.

“Mia and Sam wandering around DC together?”

“I’m more concerned about Stan and Karl running around DC together.”

Ronnie winced. “Fair point.” He chuckled. “Ten bucks says they break some priceless historic artifact.”

Ryan laughed around another gulp of water. “Don’t even joke about that. Doc will take it out of their salaries.”

A loud thump sounded from the second level.

Ronnie snorted. “Uly’s up.”

Pounding footsteps echoed down the upstairs hallway.

“Really up,” Ryan frowned. “And running.”

“Kids.” Ronnie finished his cookie.

Ulysses Davalos, the fourteen-year-old champion fencer, raced halfway down the stairs and flung himself to a stop, wide eyed with horror. Ryan started to chide him, but the expression on the boy’s face struck him silent.

“Ryan!” Uly gasped. “Trouble!”

“What?” Ryan darted from behind the bar.

“TV.” Uly spun and ran up the stairs.

Ronnie cursed under his breath and followed Ryan up the stairs.

Don’t panic. Ryan took the steps two at a time. Stay calm. It could be anything.

The second floor lounge provided a more private hang-out spot for late-night reading or early morning stretches. The bay windows let in the sunlight, shining down on Mia’s pottery workspace in the corner and Sam’s reading nook across from it.

The wide-screen television mounted on the wall flashed with wild images and blurry video, full of screaming crowds and terse news anchors.

“Uly, what?” Ryan stopped behind the sofa that faced the screen. “What is it?”

The screen blurred again, and the footage came into focus. A busy city street, surrounded by buildings and packed with pedestrians. The US Capitol in the background. And a dozen samurai armors fighting each other while people ran for cover.

Ronnie cursed again.

Ryan took Uly’s elbow. “When did this happen?”

“A few hours ago.” Uly ran his hands into his sweaty black hair. “I finished my practice set and came in to sit down, and it was on every channel.”

“Hours?” Ryan yelped.

He scrambled for his pockets to find his phone, but his pockets were empty. He’d left his phone outside. Ronnie shoved his own phone into Ryan’s hands.

“Call.” Ronnie said and rushed to the window seat where he’d left his laptop the previous night.

Ryan dialed Mia’s number and lifted the phone to his ear with a shaking hand.

How is this happening?

He and Ronnie had stayed in San Francisco in case of a Thallian attack. How could they have anticipated that Thallia would attack Washington DC? What sense did that even make?

The line rang. And rang. And rang.

Mia never picked up.

Ryan dialed Sam’s number and waited.

He didn’t particularly want to talk to Sam, but at least this was one thing they’d be on the same page about. And no matter how Sam rubbed him the wrong way, Ryan knew Mia’s safety was Sam’s priority too.

But Sam didn’t answer.

Neither did Karl. Neither did Stan.

Why weren’t they answering?

Ryan focused on the television screen, and his mouth fell open as the footage shook again as a massive shockwave erupted from the street.

“What was that?” Uly whispered.

The entire street began to collapse.

“Uly. Volume.”

Uly scrambled with the remote and cranked the volume.

“—not sure what initiated the attack,” the anchor man was saying, “but it is currently believed that the structural integrity of the DuPont Circle tunnels couldn’t withstand whatever force these attackers used.”

“Dupont Circle,” Ronnie muttered from the window seat, his fingers clacking on the keyboard of his laptop. “Looks like—abandoned underground tunnels. Geez, only eight feet beneath the surface. No wonder it fell apart.”

“What was that blast though?” Ryan lowered the phone and dialed Mia’s number again, hoping against hope she would answer it. “Was it Jinsoku?”

“Don’t know.”

The screen flashed an image of an infographic detailing the length and width of the Dupont Circle tunnel network.

“They’re calling it a terrorist attack,” Ronnie spat, continuing to type. “Idiots.”

Uly turned big dark blue eyes on Ryan. “Is she answering?”

Ryan gripped the boy’s shoulder and squeezed. Uly bit his lip, beginning to tremble, and turned back to the television. Ryan didn’t let him go.

Come on, Mia. Answer your phone. Please be all right.

“So far, dozens of injuries have been reported,” the anchor man stated. “Miraculously, no casualties. And the attackers have disappeared. Authorities believe they are now in the Dupont Circle underground, and attempts are being made to enter the tunnels to track them down.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound like a good idea.” Uly fisted his hands in his loose pants.

“Not so much.” Ryan lowered the phone. “Nobody’s answering.” He typed in Dr. Davalos’s number with one hand and raised it to his ear. “I’m assuming the lines are even working.”

“Why would Jinsoku attack Washington DC?” Uly looked up at him again. “They’ve never done that before, have they?”

“I don’t know, Uly.” Ryan stared at the screen as the doc’s phone rang and rang with no answer. “I know Sam fought a lot of soldiers there before he came here, but I don’t think Jinsoku ever showed up.”

“Do you think they attacked because Sam went back?” Uly’s eyebrows disappeared into his black bangs. “Do you think he triggered something?”

Ryan met the boy’s eyes. “Uly.”

“Why aren’t they answering, Ryan?”

Ryan hung up the phone and bent over the back of the couch, holding tighter to Uly’s shoulders. “We don’t know anything yet.” He held the boy’s gaze. “Okay? Try to be calm.”

Lip caught between his teeth, Uly nodded and leaned into Ryan’s shoulder.

The phone in Ryan’s hand released a loud squawk, so suddenly Ryan almost dropped it. A parrot’s voice squawking about petunias.

“That’s the Doc!” Ronnie cried.

Ryan had just seen the photo of Dr. Davalos on the phone screen, and he lifted the phone to his ear. “Doc?”

“Ryan.” Dr. Davalos sounded weary and gruffer than usual.

Ryan sighed in relief. “Good to hear your voice, sir.”

“Are you boys still in San Francisco?”

“Yes, sir.” Ryan met Uly’s eyes and nodded slowly, and Uly breathed out a long breath. “But we can be there—”

“No. Put me on speaker.”

Ryan frowned and walked to where Ronnie was seated, lowering the phone and activating the speaker setting.

“Doc, you’re on speaker,” Ryan said. “Tell us what happened.”

“Have you seen the news?” The Doc’s voice was tinny and fuzzy over the line.

“We’re watching it now,” Ryan said.

“They came out of nowhere. Don’t know what they wanted, but they made a mess.” Dr. Davalos sighed. “I have to be quick. The nurses will be back.”

“Nurses?” Ryan caught Ronnie’s silver eyes.

“I just woke up.” Dr. Davalos cleared his throat. “We tried to get out of the line of fire, but we didn’t get far enough.”

“Where is Mia, sir?”

Dr. Davalos didn’t answer right away.

“Grandpa, where’s Mia?” Uly’s voice shook.

“I don’t know.” The answer came slowly, sluggishly.

How injured was he?

“Sir?” Ryan started. “Are you all right?”

“Banged up, but I’ll live.” The line crackled around his voice. “Have any of them called you?”

“No, and we can’t get through either.” Ryan sat on the window seat and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his heart rate.

“You two should stay put,” Dr. Davalos said. “It will take hours for you to get here, and who knows if this is just a distraction.”

Ryan’s stomach turned over. He hadn’t considered that.

If he and Ronnie ran off to DC to help find their lost friends, San Francisco would be defenseless. And San Francisco had been Thallia’s target for years.

“Did you get any indication of why they attacked?”

“No.”

Ryan shut his eyes. “Do you know what happened? What caused the collapse?”

Dr. Davalos sighed. “No.”

“Okay.” Ryan leaned forward. “Sir, are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’ll be fine.” The line crackled again. “Nurse coming. You boys stay put. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

The line went dead.

Uly folded and sat on the floor, his face ashen. “What do we do?”

Ryan handed the phone to Ronnie. “We stay put.” He tried to keep his voice steady. The last thing Uly needed was to see him breaking. “And we do what we can from here.”

“Armorlink won’t work,” Ronnie said. “Too far away.”

Ryan nodded.

The telepathic link that connected the five Reishosan armors together seemed to only function with a radius of several dozen miles.

“What about the radios?” Ryan asked.

Each armor also was equipped with a radio system accessible through their helmets.

Ronnie raised a blue eyebrow. “Maybe.”

“Can you—I don’t know—increase the signal? Make it stronger?”

Ronnie dug in his pocket for the Sora armor’s menuki and pulled it out, the dragon charm sparkling in the sunlight. “Maybe.” Ronnie shut his laptop and tucked it under his arm. “I’ll be upstairs.”

He fled from the room and ran up the stairs. They stored all of their armor-related equipment in the top-most room of the turret, which Dr. Davalos had turned into a training facility. A headquarters of sorts.

“I don’t want to stay here.” Uly buried his face in his knees.

Ryan slid down to the floor and wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “We haven’t got a choice right now, Uly.” He pulled the boy into a hug. “We can’t leave.”

“Tell me they’re all right, Ryan. Please.”

Ryan shut his eyes and rested his chin on top of Uly’s head. He wanted to hope, desperately needed to believe that Stan and Karl and Sam were alive and that Mia was safe.

Ryan turned his eyes to the chaos on the television screen, the collapsed sections of the street, the flashing lights of emergency vehicles, the panic-stricken expressions of people fleeing the destruction.

He tightened his grip on Uly’s shoulders and said nothing.