Escape
Dieter Schwarz
Dealing with devils.
The Monegasque Secret Service was closing in.
They had brought reinforcements from the Monegasque military, expanding their strength ten-fold. More barreled around the corners of the courthouse, swarming toward them.
Rogue Security’s van was parked farther down the street.
Beside Dieter, Magnus and Aaron fought the Monegasquemen, blocking blows, while he defended Flicka.
The terror in her eyes nearly stopped him dead, but she kept up with him as they pressed through the crowd toward the street.
The desert sun flooded the street and dazzled his eyes with bright, white light.
The Monegasques stripped Magnus and Aaron away from him, dragging them into the scrum where they fought hand-to-hand.
They weren’t going tomake it.
Beside him, a man’s voice said, “Raphael, come back to us.”
When he turned, the blazing glare of light settled around the man, on his silver hair, and on his dark blue suit.
Dieter blinked, and the man’s harsh features resolved themselves into a face much like his own, a virtual copy of the man who looked out his mirror while he shaved his jaw. Older, yes. The man’s gray eyes helddecades of anger. “Father?”
“Raphael, they’re going to take her. Our van is only steps away. You can’t hold out much longer.”
Evil can speak the truth, which makes it even harder to resist.
In a fraction of a second, Dieter knew his choice: allow Pierre’s men to take Flicka to Monaco, or willingly walk into the fires of Hell that had forged him.
“Yes,” he told his father. “Save her.”
Hisfather touched his elbow.
Men piled out of a van just twenty feet away, heavily armed like riot police. They broke through the crowd, forming a path.
The black-armored men surrounded them, forcing the Monegasque attackers back.
Dieter dragged Flicka as she stumbled toward the van.
He handed her in and clambered in after her.
His father climbed in, and several of the mercenaries swung throughthe van’s door before it slid shut.
The van crouched and leaped forward, speeding through the chaos in the street and into traffic beyond the courthouse.
Dieter held his head in his hands as his mind spun.
No,Raphaelheld his head in his hands.
His fingertips inched up his temples to his short hair, trying to make sense of himself.
Dieter had sold his soul to save Flicka, every last shredof it.
And Raphael had to come to terms with that.
