Blake eased the car toward the checkpoint. To anyone watching, she was a quiet woman with heavy glasses and a scarf pulled close. Inside, her pulse thundered with one certainty. Whatever waited beyond that border would change everything.
The barrier was down in front of them, a chipped red-and-white pole stretched across the narrow road. A single guard stepped from the squat concrete booth, his uniform slightly rumpled, cap tilted at an angle that spoke more of boredom than discipline. Elise’s heart hammered anyway.
The guard leaned into the driver’s window, breath clouding in the cool October air. His eyes flicked across the three of them, barely pausing on her thick glasses and scarf, before settling on Blake.
“Papers,” he said in clipped Hungarian.
Blake reached calmly into the inside pocket of his jacket and drew out a neat wallet. He flipped it open with practiced ease, producing the documents Guardian had provided. His movements were steady, almost casual, as though handing overpassports was the most ordinary thing in the world. Elise’s stomach twisted. She knew every detail had been engineered. Rook had shown her the documents. The watermarks, the stamps, even the scuff of the covers would mimic wear. She couldn’t tell the difference, but she didn’t look at passports every day like the guard did. Would it be enough?
The guard accepted the documents with one hand, the other absently scratching his jaw. He flicked through them slowly, lips moving as he read the names. Elise sat perfectly still in the back, her gaze fixed on the scarred dashboard, her breath shallow behind the scarf.
Beside Blake, Rook didn’t move. His posture was loose, almost lazy, but Elise felt the weight of his and Blake’s readiness, predators at rest.
The guard snapped the documents shut and bent to peer once more into the car. His eyes lingered on Elise for a heartbeat, and she forced herself to adjust her glasses, tilting her face away as if embarrassed to be looked at.
Then the man straightened. With a dismissive flick, he handed the papers back to Blake, his expression already sliding into disinterest. He waved toward the barrier.
“Go.”
The pole rose slowly, the gears of the barrier squealing. Blake eased the car forward without a word. Elise held her breath until the booth receded in the rearview mirror and the open road stretched into Serbia. Only then did she let the air escape in a trembling rush.
Blake’s knuckles tightened briefly on the wheel before loosening again, the only outward sign that the moment had held any danger at all. For a long moment, none of them spoke. The only sound was the steady hum of the engine and the faint rattle of the road beneath the tires.
Elise leaned back against the seat, the scarf suddenly too hot around her head and throat. She tugged it loose and took off the horrid glasses before she blew out a shaky breath. “God, I thought he was going to see right through us.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Blake’s eyes stayed on the road, but his tone was calm, even. “He didn’t. The papers were solid, and you played your part.”
She pushed the thick glasses farther away from her with unsteady fingers. “My part was sitting here trying not to faint.”
This time, Blake glanced at her in the rearview mirror. The barest flicker of warmth touched his eyes. “You did exactly what I needed you to do, which was nothing. Sometimes that’s the hardest role to play.”
Rook snorted softly, shifting in the passenger seat. “Relax, princess. If it had gone bad, you’d have known it. Things would’ve gotten real loud real fast.”
Elise swallowed hard. “Comforting, Rook. Thanks for that.”
“Hey,” Rook muttered, leaning back as if the whole encounter had been a mild inconvenience. “You’re across, aren’t you? That’s what matters.”
Her gaze darted back to Blake. He wasn’t smiling, but there was a quiet certainty in the way he held the wheel, a strength that steadied her pulse.
She drew in another breath, this one steadier than the last. The fear was still there, but so was the undeniable truth. They were on the other side now, and whatever waited ahead, she was in it with them.
Not long after, the car bumped off the main road onto a cracked lane lined with skeletal trees, their October leaves long since scattered. Ahead, the airfield lay half-hidden. There was no control tower, just a squat clubhouse and a row of hangars whose corrugated doors rattled in the wind. A single sodium light waved on a power line near the fuel shed.
As Blake rolled them to a stop, the sound of engines rose in the distance. “What’s that?” she asked Blake as they got out of the car.
He put his arm around her. “That is the steady whine of twin Pratt & Whitney turboprops.”
“Nah, you’re wrong. Single motor.” Rook shook his head.
Moments later, a plane flew overhead and made a wide banking turn. “That, Rook, is a Beechcraft King Air 350i. Twin motors.”
“Damn it.” Rook reached into his pocket and pulled out an American twenty-dollar bill. “Sooner or later, I’m going to win one.”
Blake took the money and shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans. “Doubt it. My teachers were the best. Not much Dixon and Drake haven’t flown.”
“Yeah, the bet is rigged. I knew it.” Rook laughed.
“Like I’d make a bet I didn’t know I’d win?” Blake laughed as he pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head. She relaxed into his side as his ease seeped into her bones. The plane swept low over the fence, its landing lights on even though it was daylight. Tires screeched faintly against the short asphalt strip before the aircraft taxied toward the hangar where they were parked.
