I didn’t stop.
Sophia’s head lifted from Trent’s shoulder, and the sound that tore from her throat was half sob, half scream. Relief and terror and desperate hope.
“Mommy!”
Trent turned and spotted me running toward them. If he was angry, he didn’t show it; instead, he moved to meet me halfway and passed Sophia into my arms in one smooth motion.
My knees hit the asphalt hard enough to bruise. I collapsed, clutching my daughter against my chest. Her small body shook. Her arms locked around my neck. She smelled wrong. Antiseptic and airplane and fear-sweat. But underneath it all was still Sophia.
My Sophia.
“I got you, baby,” I whispered into her hair, rocking her as gunfire continued. I was vaguely aware of Ethan and Trent and others forming a circle around us, guns up. “I got you. You’re safe now.”
“The scary people took me on the airplane,” she sobbed. “They put a needle in my arm and I went to sleep and when I woke up you weren’t there and they wouldn’t tell me where you were and I thought you forgot me?—“
“Never.” I pulled back just enough to see her face. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, eyes red-rimmed and wild. “I would never forget you. I’ve been looking for you every second.”
“They said you didn’t want me anymore. They said I belonged to them now.”
White-hot rage bloomed behind my eyes. I would kill them. Every last person who’d made my daughter believe that.
“They lied,” I told her. Smoothed her tangled hair back from her forehead. “They took you from me. But I found you. And I’m never letting you go again.”
“Evelyn!” Trent’s voice cut through the moment. Urgent. Sharp. “We need to move. Now.”
I heard it then. Sirens wailing in the distance, growing louder—the Finnish police responding to reports of gunfire on the highway.
We had minutes.
Maybe less.
Then another sound. A deeper, rhythmic thumping that I felt in my chest before I heard it.
A helicopter roared overhead. Black. Unmarked. Coming in fast and low over the highway.
“Your chariot awaits,” Nolan’s Irish lilt sing-songed through the comms, cheerful as always.
Where he got that helicopter was anyone’s guess.
“All units, exfil now,” Ethan ordered. “Rafe, give them something to think about.”
The second charge blew. This one bigger, louder. A section of the overpass erupted in flame and debris. Not enough to bring it down. Just enough to block the highway. Keep the police from following.
“Sorry about your infrastructure,” Rafe said, not sounding sorry at all.
“Time to go.” Trent physically lifted me to my feet. One arm supported me while the other kept his weapon ready.
The helicopter touched down in the middle of the highway. Fifty yards away. Rotor wash whipped my hair across my face, and debris scattered around our feet.
“Heads down and run,” Trent said and pressed a hard, fast kiss to my temple. “I’m right behind you.”
Flynn and Decker provided cover fire as we retreated. Leo and Alistair fell back from the disabled security vehicles. Lyric was already rappelling down from the overpass. Fast. Hand over hand. She was running as soon as her boots hit the pavement, reaching the helicopter first and pulling open the side door.
Ethan moved last, walking backward, weapon up. Covering our retreat. “Move, move, move!”
I reached the helicopter, and true to his word, Trent was steps behind me. He took Sophia from my arms and lifted her inside. Then me. My hands shook so hard I couldn’t grip the safety harness that Lyric shoved at me.
“Let me,” Lyric said. She buckled Sophia in, smiling as if this were just a sightseeing adventure tour. “There you go, Bunny. All set.” She glanced at me, and her smile faded a bit as she handed me a set of headphones. “You did good, mama. She’s safe now.”
