I can hear Valentine walking. “How long until you’re at Prostasia?”
“At least a day.”
“For you to do all this, Santiago, it must be an important situation. I’d like to meet her.”
And then he ends our call.
Before I return to my Omega, I shoot off the details of Hernandez to Valentine. It’s probably unnecessary—he would have been Googling the ambassador while we were speaking—but I feel better knowing he has everything at his disposal. I also have complete faith that Victor won’t be going anywhere. If he puts up a fight, Valentine will shoot first and apologize later.
Which means we can now put all our effort into helping Quinn and saving her brother.
Chapter Fifty-Four
QUINN
We share a lot in the time it takes us to travel from Columbia to a tiny speck on the map in Colorado.
Any worry I had, they listened to. More importantly, they heard what I was saying. They offered their perspectives before giving me the space to draw my own conclusions, all without blinding me with their scents.
As the plane landed on a private airstrip a short drive from Deena’s house, it wasn’t fear of what we were facing; it was worry that we were too late.
We were busting to get off the plane. Our bond was rippling with tension, but it was also chock-full of confidence too. Roshka and Nalla were under the influence of our emotions.
“I don’t mean to pressure you.” Aleksei’s voice is low and deep, matching the rising snarls of warning from the dogs.
I bury my hand in Roshka’s fur, hoping it stops him from biting the legs of our flight attendant. “You can hold on for a few more minutes.”
Nalla swings around and glares at me, but she does that a lot.
“He’s all yours, Nalla.”
At least me having a little dominance over her means the flight attendant can finish unlocking the door and deploying the steps without the risk of getting a nip on the butt by the big hairy bitch.
The woman isn’t stupid. As soon as the steps are down, she moves out of the way with a professional smile hiding how she really feels.
The dogs take off like rockets, chasing the confinement of the flight and the rising turbulence of our pack, burning it from their system. We use the time to pack our luggage, splitting it between the two SUVs that Aleksei arranged.
The more time we spend together, the more I see the pure goodness that Aleksei hides. He is an Alpha driven by a deep need of caring for others. The further we are from Russia, the more obvious that trait is, along with his very dominant nature. I’m aware that I’m one of only a handful of people to know the real Aleksei, and I feel sorry for those who don’t and never will.
“Maya, stop fucking looking googly-eyed at me and get in the car. You’re out in the goddamn open. We talked about this,” he growls, as he waits at the driver's door of one of the SUVs.
I step in close, and he snatches me off my feet, helping me climb into the SUV. He pulls over the seat belt, securing me without looking at me.
And I know we talked and made decisions about how we approach this, but I also know if he had it his way entirely, he’d be driving a fleet of tanks down the long driveway to Deena’s.
“If you are hurt,maya, I will be very angry. And I will have to punish you.”
I laugh while catching his retreating form by hooking a hand around his neck and pulling him down to me. I scratch my nails over the back of his neck and kiss him senseless. He pulls awayto stare me down. His eyes say a hundred, perhaps a thousand, words, and he makes sure I understand everything in them, despite him not making a sound. And then he walks away.
I watch from my spot in the drivers seat, using the rearview mirror, as Aleksei climbs into the back of the second vehicle. Roshka and Nalla sit next to him. He’s not happy I’m driving by myself, and honestly, neither are Kade or Santiago, but it’s the most sensible for me to go last. And we need two vehicles to whisk Marco and Deena away.
I start to drive off, following the route we plotted, once the pilot had advised where we were landing. I usually drive in from the opposite side of town, but the roads are still familiar.
“Breathe,” I school myself as I pass the small Chinese takeout place that makes the egg drop soup. It’s closed now, like the garden shop next to it and the bakery across the road. The whole town is closed.
Taking the last turn home, I take my foot off the accelerator, dealing with an influx of nerves and anxiety.
I dial Santiago’s phone, and he answers before the second ring. “Bebe, we’re right here with you.”
