But the way she does leaves no room for doubt.
Without another word, I get up and leave the break room, walking back into the hallway with my coat unbuttoned and my heart beating so hard it feels like it might give out.
Itoss my backpack into the trunk of the car Talon stole from who-knows-where, and Cassian yanks open the back door to shove Mark inside. He doesn’t do it gently. If anything, he looks like he’s fighting the urge to launch him through the window.
My ex-husband hits the seat face-first with a grunt, the tape over his mouth swallowing the sound. His hands are bound tight behind his back with knotted rope Nathaniel insisted on redoing twice “for structural integrity.”
“Comfortable?” Cassian asks flatly, slamming the door before Mark can even lift his head.
I doubt he heard the question. And if he did, good. Maybe it’ll serve as a reminder that, with our bunch, nobody cares what he has to say.
A moment later, Talon and Nathaniel slide into the backseat, one on either side of him. But nobody removes the tape.
Instead, Talon leans close to Mark’s ear and mutters, “Road trip time.”
Mark’s eyes go so wide I wish I could take a picture. If it were ever in the cards for me to stay in one place for more than a littlewhile—and if I could live long enough for that—I’d frame it and put it beside my bed.
I’m not counting the ICU room. As nice as it is to have a space prepared for me by people who care, it can’t be good long-term to live somewhere with that much mold.
That shit stays in the air, even if you scrub it off.
I should know. My grandma had to deal with the basement after a flood once. Even drying it out with an industrial dehumidifier didn’t change the fact that the mold had already settled into the materials. We had to seal the basement off so it wouldn’t spread.
It’s a nasty thing.
Cassian rounds the hood to the driver’s side. The door opens, letting in a bite of cold air. and then he leans in, broad shoulders filling the frame like the damn car is too small for him. He slides behind the wheel, adjusts his seat, and the movement drags my attention straight to him.
He’s wearing all black today. Combat pants, fitted shirt, a military jacket that hugs his shoulders.
And then my eyes drop, because of course they do. The way his pants sit low on his hips, the hard line of his belt, the casual spread of his thighs as he settles in. Something about it pins my gaze there for half a beat too long.
Hours. Long, long hours in a car withthatbeside me.
Oomph.
I drag myself back to the rest of the group. And yeah, it’s not like Cassian’s the only threat to my sanity. Nathaniel and Talon also look too gorgeous to be legal.
Me? I’ve got black jeans on, a tank top, and a jacket two sizes too big. Makeshift combat chic. Earlier, Nathaniel and Cassian handed me weapons. I’ve got a collapsible baton, a switchblade, and a gun on me.
So, I look like a badass too.
But it hits better on them.
“Hope they keep their end of the deal,” Cassian mutters.
It drags my attention to what he’s looking at—or, I should say,things. At least fifty pairs of crows sit on the power lines above us.
They’re watching us like we’re their favorite reality show. I bet they’re relaying everything to Rhea and her friends, too.
The thing is, we can’t exactly drive through the countryside with a flock of crows following us, now can we? This incursion isn’t just sneaking into Mark’s house and disappearing before the local TV can show up.
We’re actually going to hunt down some professionals.
So we negotiated that only two crows would follow us on the road.
Two.
“Yeah, let’s hope so,” I mutter.
