"Lion El'Jonson, be careful. This could be a trap."
Sanguinius's voice rang out over the Communications Channel. The primarch of the Blood Angels stood on the bridge of the Red Tear, his dark eyes fixed on Lion El'Jonson through the screen, a barely perceptible worry in his gaze.
He knew better than anyone that anger was driving Lion El'Jonson now, and anger had never been a commander's best guide.
"So what if it's a trap?" Lion El'Jonson's voice came through the communicator, low and hard.
His gaze remained locked on the fading engine trails of the White Scars fleet ahead. He did not look back.
"I can tear them apart. Even several of their legions together couldn't stop me." He put no particular emphasis on those words, but his unquestioning confidence made him sound like a lion stating its instinct to hunt.
Lion El'Jonson's strategic instincts were telling him this was a trap.
He could see every move Jaghatai Khan had made. He could see why the fleeing fleet maintained just the right distance, close enough to remain in its pursuers' sight, but never close enough to be caught.
It was a carefully laid trail of bait, drawing him away from the battlefield of Ultramar little by little.
But Lion El'Jonson's resolve and pride as lord of the firstborn legion trampled his strategic judgment underfoot.
He could not tolerate traitors within his legion.
This was the First Legion's secret!
The First Legion had no traitors!
Not now!
Not ever!
Those betrayers had to be caught, had to be torn apart, had to wash away the stains they had left with their own blood.
He could not let them escape into the darkness with the Dark Angels' secrets, leaving those stains to become fodder for the other legions' mockery.
"This is