Our men are busy dragging the bodies to the vans. They’ll have to clean everything up quickly. The overturned van will be the most difficult, but someone is already leaving, probably to get equipment.
Something feels wrong.
At first, I think it’s just me, that I’m still disoriented, but some other instinct is tugging at me. Something’s wrong, I’m sure of it. We’ve missed something with all this planning. Something base and instinctive.
I reach the end of the line and turn, heading back to Vitali and Quinn. Vitali’s eyes jump to me.
“He’s not here,” I say. “Paulo.”
“That’s what we were just discussing,” Vitali says.
I turn around and walk off. I reach one of the cars that formed the blockade. I get in. I’m not thinking. I don’t need to. Something is wrong. I don’t need to name it to know it.
I hear my name being shouted, but the keys are in the ignition, so I just start the car and drive.
It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for a pair of headlights to show up in my rearview mirror.
I get out my phone and call Lucas, but he doesn’t answer. I call Sasha. She doesn’t answer either.
My phone rings. It’s Vitali.
“Just stay calm,” he says when I accept the call.
I don’t say anything, but I’m sure he can hear my harsh breathing because he says again, “Just stay calm.”
“Are you watching the cameras?” I ask.
“Sasha knows what she’s doing.”
For a second, my vision goes out. There’s nothing but white light and emptiness and a high whine. It’s like an inversion of the closed-in blackness of the van or the prison. It’s theunreality of existence without—
“Roman, do not wreck that fucking car.”
I blink, and the road reveals itself. Signs and buildings flash by.
“He didn’t answer his phone,” I say woodenly.
“They’re getting to the roof,” Vitali tells me. “It’s what they’re supposed to do if they can’t get out. Jesus, Roman, slow down.”
I don’t reply. I can’t slow down. I won’t.
“Roman—”
I don’t hear the rest because I drop the phone. It clatters away from me.
I can’t think about Vitali right now. Nothing matters but the distance between me and Lucas and that I close it as fast as possible.
This is the second time I’ve driven like this to the house. The first, Lucas was with me and we were fleeing our captors. But now he’s not with me. I can’t see him. I can’t protect him.
I take the exit and blow through the stoplight. I overshoot the turn and skid onto the opposite shoulder. It’s the middle of the night, so there’s no traffic, but the tires squeal on the pavement. I get back into my lane and smash the gas pedal. The headlights keep pace behind me.
I slow down a little as I near the property, but I’m still going way too fast as I blow through the already-smashed gates. I overshoot again and skid off the pavement into the grass, throwing dirt in my wake. I clip a tree with the side mirror then bounce back up onto the driveway.
I speed toward the front of the house. The lights are off. Everything is dark, but I can see the boxy shape of an SUV in front. I hit the brakes and yank the wheel to spin the car and slam the passenger side against the front of the SUV to block its departure.
The crash knocks me into my door, rattling me in the driver’s seat. Shots are firing before I can even open the door. Headlights are blazing toward me, but Vitali’s car veers off, headlights now revealing several men with guns. As those men scatter and the gunfire briefly pauses, I get out and run for the porch. I race up the steps and through the open front door into the house. Everything is so black that I know the power’s been cut. I catch a drift of light at the stairs. Someone is hunting for the roof access.
I’m not being quiet, so it’s not a surprise that the light brightens as I barrel up the stairs. I no longer have a gun, but I’m past thinking like that anyway.The light meets me at the top, a flashlight blazing into my eyes and blinding me.
