Luca glanced back.“Shit.Raphael, take her and run.
Raphael held Flicka’s arm, and they hurried along the sidewalk of the tunnel.
Soon, they came to a narrow area with no sidewalk, just a narrow edge of the pavement next to the dark, speeding traffic.
Brown watermarks stained the concreteof the tunnel, here. Normally, neon tube lights would have lit up the tunnel, but only pale emergency lights shone down from above.
Flicka ran, wishing that she’d picked a white dress instead of a black one for the Winter Ball. They were going to die like bugs on a car’s grill.
Dying was still better than being Pierre’s baby-producing slave.
But,Alina.
Flicka sprinted, knowing that the tunnel’sexit must be close.
They could make it.
Raphael had his hand on her back, but she didn’t stumble as she tapped over the asphalt.
Ahead, subtly, the darkness began to grow lighter.
They emerged at ground level, but darkness covered the whole city and over into France. The air was fresher out there because the tunnel concentrated the cars’ exhaust, but it was colder, too. The chill nipped hershoulders and back.
“Wow,” Flicka said as she ran along the median. Under her feet, her slick-soled shoes slid in muddy dirt. Palm trees coalesced out of the black night, and she dodged, trying not to slam into them.
Raphael said, “Blaise outdid himself. I don’t know whether he wanted to take down all of Monaco, but he did.”
The tunnel had dumped them onto the Avenue Rainer IV, a major roadthat ran along the marina where yachts moored. They darted across traffic, narrowly avoiding a car screaming out of the dark at them a few times, to the red-brick sidewalk on the other side of the street. From there, they ran down the sidewalks, dodging cement planters that rose out of the overwhelming darkness.
“Where are we going?”
“Train station. I can carry you,” Raphael said.
Flicka ranharder. “I’m keeping up.”
“But your shoes. You’re wearing heels.”
“I can run faster than you can carry me.”
“But your feet must hurt.”
“Just make sure you keep up,Lieblingwächter.”
They turned corners and followed the brick sidewalk that curved around the base of the rocky headland,Le Rocher,and then through the urban center of Monaco.
“Your feet,” Raphael repeated.
“My feet are fine.”The real pain was the sharp cramp in Flicka’s side. For more than a month, her only exercise had been sedate strolls around the play parks of Geneva. She’d gotten out of shape so quickly. Her few workouts with Mariah had done nothing to help.
“The train station is almost a mile,” he said.
“It isn’t even a mile,” she panted.“Come on.I want to get the hell out of Monaco.”
They ran past thetiny shops, pharmacies, and cafes that were dark and closed for the night. Pedestrians still milled the streets, though. Most still wore a somber face from the funeral the day before, but they were ogling the dark city and beginning to look panicked.
“Turn here!” Raphael called.
Flicka whipped around a corner and continued running ahead of him on the narrow sidewalk. The bricked passage wasfar too small for the two of them to run side-by-side, so she took the lead, dodging construction scaffolding that overhung the sidewalk on the centuries-old buildings. If she were behind Raphael, he would keep looking back for her, so it was better that she took point. They’d run like this from danger too many times, and she knew what he expected her to do.
