They weren't running toward us in a protective formation. They weren't calling to check if we were okay or to see if the President was injured.
They were raising their weapons.
"Down!" I roared, twisting my body to shield Ellie as the first shots rang out, my shoulders hunching over her to make myself the only target.
Bullets whizzed past us in a distinctive high-pitched shriek, one so close I felt the sear of it against the exposed skin of my neck. Another punched into the concrete steps beside us with a sharp crack, sending up a spray of pulverized debris. These weren't warning shots fired into the air or at our feet. They were aiming to kill.
I jumped to my feet, keeping Ellie tight against my chest and ran. Away from the SUVs, away from the agents who were supposed to protect her, who'd sworn oaths to take bullets for her. My mind raced, calculating angles and trajectories, measuring distances and obstacles, mapping every possible escape route through the maze of parked vehicles and decorative planters.
There was only one option.
I released my wings from where I kept them folded tight against my back while in my human disguise. They tore through the back of my jacket as they unfurled, leathery and utterly inhuman. Ellie gasped against my chest, but she didn't scream.
I launched us into the air.
More gunfire erupted from below, a staccato symphony punctuated by brilliant orange flashes that strobed through the darkness. I felt one bullet graze my leg, while another ricocheted off the tough membrane of my left wing with a sound like a beating drum. I beat my wings harder, the powerful muscles in my back and shoulders burning with exertion as I gained altitude.
The Potomac stretched out before us, dark and wide, its surface reflecting the scattered lights of the city. They couldn't follow us here. Not easily.
I followed the river, each powerful stroke of my wings putting precious distance between us and the yacht, between us and whatever the hell had just happened.
Ellie was shaking in my arms. Not just trembling, but full-body shudders I felt through my chest, her heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. Her fingers dug into my shoulders, nails biting through the torn fabric of my jacket, holding on like I was the only solid thing left in a world that had just shattered around her.
"Madam President." My voice came out rough, the words grinding through my throat like gravel. "Are you hurt?"
She didn't answer right away. Just kept shaking, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps against the side of my neck, each exhale warm and ragged against my skin.
"Ellie," I said again, softer this time, gentling my tone as much as possible. "Talk to me. Are you alright?"
"Chase," she finally managed, her voice breaking on his name. "And Rivers? Are they…?"
"Dead," I said. No point in softening it. "Both of them."
She made a sound then, something between a sob and a gasp, a wounded noise that cut straight through my chest, and her shaking worsened. I adjusted my grip, pulling her closer, trying to shield her from the icy wind whipping around us as we flew. She had to be freezing, clad only in her silky dress.
"Chase was already dead," I told her, the words bitter on my tongue. "Long before tonight. He was a Trogvyk in disguise. Has been for Goddess only knows how long."
Her whole body went rigid, every muscle locking up as if she'd been struck. "What?"
"A Trogvyk," I repeated. "He wasn't Chase anymore. Maybe he never was."
She was crying now. I felt the wetness against my neck, hot tears that cooled quickly in the rushing wind, the brokensounds she was making muffled against my shoulder. I wanted to comfort her, wanted to tell her it would be okay, but I'd never been good at that. And besides, it would be a lie.
Nothing about this was okay.
"Hewes," she said suddenly, pulling back just enough to look at me, her eyes red-rimmed and streaming. "He knew. He knew about the plan to capture him. He knew everything."
My jaw tightened, muscles bunching beneath my skin. "How?"
"I don't know. But he did. We need to…" She swallowed hard, her throat working visibly as she tried to steady herself, tried to find the composure of the leader she was supposed to be. "We need to get to the White House. We need to.…"
"No." The word came out harsh, sharp as a blade. "Absolutely not."
"Rickon—"
"Your whole Secret Service detail has been compromised, Ellie. Hewes is embedded deeper than we ever imagined. If Chase was one of them, who else? How many others?" The questions hung in the air between us.
She shook her head, denial written across her features, but I caught the fear in her eyes, the dawning realization that crept across her face.
