I take Sasha’s hands to get her attention. “I kick.” I point to the window. “We jump.” I nod. “We run.”
But fear breaks her aqua eyes. Eyes matching Loch’s and almost making mine cry.
Sasha’s been held captive for so long, endured so much, the chains on her mind imprison her more than another promise of escape. I can’t imagine what Sheremetev did to her for the last one.
“Where?” She doubts the plan.
I swallow, knowing the power of these words. “Sasha’s mother.Yourmother.”
How I have nightmares missing mine. How I’d crawl through hell’s fire to reunite with her. But she’s shining above, illuminating our escape.
“Mother?” Tears fill Sasha’s eyes.
“Yes.” I squeeze her hands. “And brothers. Sisters.” She’ll learn later about the queens.
She blinks, not believing for a moment. Hope has been such a risk for her. But then, she nods, lifting her chin. “Da. Mama.”
God, she looks so much like Nadine.
I see it now.
“Okay,” I tell her. “We. Fast.”
Pivoting, I lift the window’s red handles, thankful for my big, booted feet, my curvy, muscular legs, and all the power in my cake—Vale would be so proud. I use it to kick the window open.
It crashes to the ground while I scurry, jumping out, glad to be so tall. It’s not a long drop before I turn and urge Sasha, “Jump!”
A commotion bangs behind her. Scared, she glances over her shoulder, hesitating.
“Sasha! Yourmama!” I beckon, arms up. “Jump!”
The word turns her back to me, trusting, believing. She leaps into my arms as I brace, catching her. She’s barefoot, but I’m strong and trained to rescue. Turning around, I crouch, pointing to my back. “On!”
She hops on my back just as a slurring voice barks, “Idi syuda, shlyukha! Idi syuda!”
I don’t know Russian, but I know a threat. And I know which way to run from it—south, down the mountain.
Running into the woods, Sasha hangs on to my back while I search the bark of a hemlock tree for moss. It grows on its north side, so I turn in the opposite direction.
Three gunshots blast through the night. It makes Sasha yelp, and my feet race faster than I’ve ever run. Guided by moonlight and Fate herself.
Minutes, an hour, I run, slicing through branches ripping at my skin, until we reach a clearing, and I look up,catching the looming silhouette of the ancient rock formation.
The Devil’s Courthouse.
I know exactly where we are.
Thirty miles from my cabin. Over rugged terrain, cliffs, and waterfalls. We won’t make it in the dark, under cover, and on foot. It’s too dangerous. So, I take a calculated risk.
Lowering Sasha to the ground, she shivers while I sweat. “Shh,” I tell her while I close my eyes and listen to the forest.
Over the whooshing of cold wind through trees, in a lull between gusts, is an occasional soft, synthetic hum. Engines around ancient mountains.
The Blue Ridge Parkway.
I turn in its direction. “Come.” I beckon Sasha to my back again.
“No.” She points at my sweating neck. “I walk.”
