“I don’t have a choice,” Katia replies.
He raises an eyebrow and looks at me, a flicker of amusement moving across his face. “Not many people can handle Katia, you know.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I know.”
“You’re both insane.” He’s no longer blocking the exit, and I see a beat-up Chevy bathed in the pale light of the moon, parked on the side of the road. Another look passes between him and Katia, and I glance away. Then, he says something in the same language I heard earlier.
Katia’s response is short, but there’s no mistaking her impatience.
We’re running out of time.
I don’t know how much of a head start Mason has on us.
Suddenly, Katia yanks me against her, and I bite back my retort. She shoves me into the backseat of the car and motions for me to crouch low. I do as I’m told, knowing that each moment I waste arguing is another moment that trouble draws closer to Noah. As Katia slams the back door shut, I hunker further down and stare straight ahead.
A few moments later, the engine revs, slicing through the stillness of the night.
I can’t believe I am doing this.
Mason isn’t just going to punish Katia.
He has warned me about interfering, and I know he’s hanging on by a thread.
The famous Mason restraint I’ve seen in action is about to snap, and I offer a silent prayer that it won’t be for nothing.
I can’t be too late.
Katia pauses at the main gate, and I hold my breath until the iron gates swing open. Katia keeps both hands on the wheel as I give her directions to Noah’s. She races past several traffic lights and breaks at least a dozen driving rules as we race through the city streets.
On the outskirts of the city, Katia presses harder on the gas.
“Please don’t let us be too late.”
“Didn’t take you for the praying kind.” Katia swerves onto a smaller street and hits the brakes as a group of kids appears. “Still, I’d consider my last words carefully if I were you.”
“Mason won’t hurt me for interfering,” I tell her with more confidence than I feel. “You said yourself that he needs us.”
Katia snorts and turns her attention back to the road.
I lurch sideways when she presses on the gas again.
She pulls to a stop in front of Noah’s parents’ house, and I feel sick all over again. Katia unbuckles her seatbelt and reaches into her boots. She tosses me a gun and shoves open the driver’s door.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Katia snaps before disappearing behind the house.
My fingers close around the gun.
For a long while, nothing happens, and I wonder if we’re too late.
Then I hear a gunshot, and I scramble forward.
Using the edge of the gun, I slice the zip ties open and scramble to open the door. I race up the driveway, every muscle screaming at me in protest. On the front porch, I stop and suck in a deep breath.
Then, I burst through the door with the gun held firmly in my hand.
Noah is sitting on a chair opposite the kitchen, and Mason is crouched in front of him, gun held in his hand The lights are dimmed, and there’s no one else in the house, and the two of them turn to look at me.
Mason’s expression turns from shock to icy fury.
