I turn to look at her. “If you have a concussion, you shouldn’t sleep.”
Katia raises her middle finger at me. “I’ll be fine.”
“Mason will find us,” I say. “He has to.”
Even if I have to deal with his anger, it’s better than the alternative.
I don’t want to have to explain why I snuck out and allowed his favorite assassin to get concussed.
My mind spins with possibilities as I sit, listening to the wind whistle. Now and again, I think I hear footsteps outside the shed, and I freeze. A short while later, I move to the back of the room and use the pale moonlight to rummage through a box. When I find an old wool blanket that smells like wood shavings and dried water, I wrinkle my nose and carry it to Katia.
She stirs when I cover her, but says nothing.
Unable to sit any longer, I begin to pace the shack and wring my hands.
I have no idea how long we’re there, but when I hear an engine outside and bright headlights cast shadows along the walls, I panic. My hands tremble as I reach for one of Katia’s daggers and place myself between her and the door. The doorknob rattles, and a heartbeat later, the door flies open.
The dagger in my hand sails through the air and lodges itself in the wall next to the hooded figure.
As she pulls her hood down, I breathe a sigh of relief, and my knees nearly give out. “Thank God it’s you.”
Miss Deveroux glances from the dagger to my face. “It’s a good thing you have terrible aim.”
“She’ll need to work on that.”
We glance at Katia, who is trying to push herself up. I race to help her, and she pushes me away. Frowning, I try again and throw her arm over my shoulders. Miss Deveroux takes the other arm, and we carry Katia outside, where a drizzle has started.
I blink and see a black Cadillac parked haphazardly on the side of the road. Huffing, I hoist Katia higher and place one foot in front of the other. Miss Deveroux yanks on the back door, and together, we push Katia inside. She pitches forward and lets out a sigh as I hurry to the passenger side and climb in.
A blast of hot air hits me in the face.
Miss Deveroux gets in a moment later and clicks her seatbelt into place. She turns up the heat and places both hands on the wheel. “Sorry, I couldn’t get here sooner. It was hard to sneak out.”
I hold my hands up to the heating vents. “Thanks for coming.”
“I couldn’t say much because I wasn’t sure who was listening,” Miss Deveroux continues without looking at me. “Too many people to keep an eye on.”
I nod. “I’m sure.”
A moment later, she dims the headlights and starts the engine.
For a long while, all I can hear is the windshield wipers swishing. I focus on the rhythmic motion while warmth returns to my body. Eventually, we merge onto a main road, and a fewother cars are honking. Miss Deveroux says nothing. I realize we’re approaching the club.
Everything is a blur as Miss Deveroux leaves the Cadillac in an empty parking spot and gets out of the car.
She ushers us in through the back door of the club after handing us two hoodies.
Then, we’re in her office, where she examines Katia closely.
Then, we sneak out the back door and she marches us to the estate, where the guards see Katia and let us through. Katia and Miss Deveroux share a look before she ducks in through a back door. I wait until I’m sure she’s gone before I turn to the older woman, words failing me.
“Seems like a lot has happened since we last saw each other.”
I chuckle. “You have no idea.”
Miss Deveroux’s eyes are wide and concerned as she studies me. “Just be careful. In this world, not everything is what it seems.”
“I knew you’d come.”
