And starts disappearing into.
It’s as if the solid stone floor that was there only moments ago is now a deep, dimensional pool. She slips calf-deep into it before Kharon grasps her with all six of his arms and yanks her backward out, runes flaring from his hands to counteract whatever’s happening.
I’m frozen, staring at the—what? Multidimensional pool of magical amniotic fluid?
Suddenly I’m being lifted into Romulus’s arms like I weigh nothing as he sprints with me toward the door. My arms automatically wrap around his neck, clinging.
Kharon has done the same thing with his very pregnant—and I assume now in active labor—wife, cradling her carefully despite his speed.
Normally, I might have something to say about being carried around like a damsel in distress. But considering the fact that I am officially way, way out of my comfort zone, and the entire might of the Russian military is about to descend on us—not to mention the whole woman-in-labor-with-a-magic-interdimensional-baby thing?—
Yeah. I’m happy to be a passenger in Romulus’s strong arms at the moment.
I’m capable of a lot of things. Cinnamon rolls, for instance. Office work. I can make a mean spreadsheet. I survived seven years with a narcissistic asshole.
Battling an oncoming army?
Officially beyond my pay grade.
When we burst outside into the bright afternoon sunlight, I’m still clinging to Romulus’s neck like a terrified monkey, my legs wrapped around his waist.
Oh god, what if we’re all about to die?
Yes, these guys might be like, ancient gods or whatever, but missiles are missiles! Explosions are explosions!
I asked for adventure, but I don’t think I meant the scary, possibly-dying parts!
I squeeze my eyes shut against the wind, only opening them again when the gust whipping my hair around my face stops and I realize that Romulus is depositing me into one of the bench seats at the back of the huge military-style helicopter.
His hands are surprisingly gentle as he straps me in, checking the buckles twice.
I blink, stunned and disoriented, as I watch Kharon do the same with Ksenia across from me. Her face is twisted in pain as she holds onto her enormous belly, breathing in short, sharp gasps.
“Just give me a gun, and I’ll shoot the fuckers,” she yells after breathing through what must be a contraction, her Russian accent thickening with pain and fury.
Holy crap, who is this woman?
Hannah’s in the seat beside her, one arm clutching little Raven tight against her chest and the other reaching out to grasp Ksenia’s hand. “How about we focus on keeping this baby inside you ‘til we get to safety?”
Ksenia looks up, shooting actual daggers at Hannah with her pale eyes. “But I have to kill anyone who threatens my baby.”
Hannah just nods like this is a completely reasonable argument—and maybe in this family, it is. “What if the contractions disrupt your aim? We can’t afford friendly fire right now.”
Ksenia frowns as if she’s reluctantly forced to acknowledge this logic, only moments before her face screws up again in obvious agony from the next contraction hitting.
Kharon stays standing, hovering protectively near Ksenia while also looking out the windows at the top of the helicopter—scanning, alert, ready. The back ramp begins to close with a mechanical whir.
I look toward the front, where Layden is already at the controls, his hands flying over switches and buttons with practiced precision. Moments later, the whole helicopter shudders and lifts off the ground.
My stomach drops.
“I still don’t understand what changed,” Kharon says, his dark eyes flipping back and forth all around, on constant guard for incoming threats. “Hundreds and hundreds of years, those runes held. They never even flickered.”
“Come on, connect the dots,” Romulus spits from where he’s crouched beside Kharon, similarly on guard and peering out all the windows. His wings are tucked tight against his back, coiled and ready. “Days after Remus pulls his public stunt, they find us? He exposed us, and they were obviously able to trace him back to our location somehow.”
Kharon growls low in his throat, glancing toward the back of Romulus’s head where Remus sleeps.
My stomach flips with sudden, nauseating guilt.
