It’s okay.
We’ve got this.
Cassian turns right, and Nathaniel and I follow toward the entrance, keeping a few steps between us so we don’t look like a group.
We slip through the revolving doors. Once we’re inside, we move off to the side together.
“Not good,” Cassian mutters.
“What?” I ask.
“He’s got a camera built into the rear end.”
“What?” I ask again, craning my neck toward the window. Cassian grips my shoulders, holding me in place.
“It’s there,” he says. “Trust me.”
“Okay.” I shift my weight.
“I’ll need to create a diversion,” Cassian continues. “We can’t go for the girls right away. I think opening those doors will take something extra, and if we push too hard, he might just drive off.”
“Then what do we do?” I ask.
Cassian thinks for a moment. It’s brief, but it stretches, because we’re on the clock and the killer’s wife still hasn’t returned to the car.
We need to move, now.
“Alright,” he says. “You two slash the front tire. I’ll come in from the driver’s side and try to get him out of the car.”
My pulse spikes.
“I don’t like it,” I say. “What if he realizes something’s wrong?”
“I’m betting he will,” Cassian replies. “But we knew this would be a shitty situation from the start. We’re out of time, and this is our best option.”
I don’t answer.
I want a second to let the plan settle, to react like a normal person for once, but there’s no room for that. All I can do is swallow the fear and do what needs to be done.
Talon would be better at this than me. He knows cars. He’s faster, stronger, and he’s done things like this before. But we need him as the getaway driver.
Nathaniel will cover me while Cassian goes in first.
“Alright,” Nathaniel says. “Let’s go.”
“Front tire,” Cassian repeats. “Passenger side.”
I nod.
“Got it,” I say.
His eyes flick briefly to my lips, then he pulls them away like he’s caught himself doing it. Before I can even process it, he steps back and pushes through the sliding doors into the parking lot.
Nathaniel jerks his chin. “Come on, Skye.”
We move with the flow of people, weaving between carts and end-cap displays. Everything is bright and ordinary and full of life. The people here have no idea what’s about to happen. They don’t know there are two girls locked inside one of these cars, and they can’t even cry for help because they’re sedated.
Cassian crosses the painted lines toward the white van. He stops near the front passenger side, far enough away to look casual, and fixes his attention on the tire.
