Rocco's expression became serious again. "We need to get you out of Chicago tonight."
Lark looked between the two men. "You make it sound so easy."
"It won't be,” Rocco said.
Mason checked his radio. "The compound's falling."
One of the operators shouted over the radio. "Santos escaped." Dante cursed under his breath. Her father was alive, which meant he'd come after her.
Rocco seemed to read her thoughts. "He'll hunt you."
"I know,” Lark breathed.
"He'll never stop,” Dante warned.
"I know,” Lark said again, this time with a little more heat. She wrapped her arms around herself. "So what am I supposed to do?" Silence settled over the group.
Dante answered first. “We keep running." She looked at him. "He doesn't get to decide the rest of your life anymore." Emotionclogged her throat because, for the first time, someone wasn't telling her where she belonged. Dante was asking her to choose, and she'd never had a choice before—not once.
"What if I don't know how to do this?” she asked.
Dante smiled gently. "We'll figure it out."
"We?" she questioned.
He didn't hesitate. "If you'll let me help you, yes.” Her heart fluttered.
Before she could answer, Rocco spoke quietly. "You won't have to do it alone."
Lark turned toward him and noticed that his expression was steady. "I made a promise tonight," he said.
"What promise?" Lark asked.
"That I wasn't leaving you behind,” Rocco said. She searched his face and found no pity there—only determination. She looked back at Dante, and he didn't seem threatened. If anything, he looked grateful, and the realization surprised her. These two men barely knew each other, yet both had risked everything to get her out. A loud explosion thundered through the tunnel behind them, and dust rained from the ceiling.
One of the operators looked back at Rocco. "We've got movement."
Another nodded. "Multiple hostiles."
Rocco looked at Dante. "We need to move."
Dante answered without hesitation. "Together." The two men exchanged a brief nod as Lark stood between them. They started toward the river exit, and she realized something she never would have believed twenty-four hours earlier. For the first time in her life, she wasn't facing the darkness alone, and somewhere deep inside, despite the terror, a tiny spark of hope began to grow.
Cold air slapped her face the second they emerged from the tunnel, and for one glorious heartbeat, Lark simply stood there. The Chicago River stretched before her, black and shimmering beneath the city lights. Barges drifted lazily in the distance while traffic hummed across the bridges overhead. She'd seen the skyline from her bedroom balcony a thousand times, but never like this—never without iron gates or guards.
She took a slow, shaky breath. "I'm outside." The words barely escaped her lips when Dante looked at her, confusion crossing his face.
"What?" he asked.
"I'm—" She laughed, though tears blurred her vision. "I'm outside." His expression softened. It was the first time in nearly four years that she'd stepped beyond the Santos estate without her father orchestrating every second of her life. Freedom. It smelled like river water and diesel fuel, but it was beautiful. She closed her eyes for the briefest moment before Dante grabbed her arm.
"Down!" he shouted. He yanked her behind a stack of shipping pallets as a rifle cracked in the distance. Concrete exploded where she'd been standing.
One of the STARR operators shouted, "Sniper!" The peaceful moment evaporated as another round ricocheted off the dock. Rocco dropped behind the pallets beside them, already scanning the rooftops.
"It’s coming from the East warehouse,” he said.
A second operator nodded. "Third floor." The sniper fired again, and everyone stayed down. Lark's heart hammered against her ribs. She looked between Dante and Rocco andnoticed that neither man appeared panicked. In fact, they were dangerously calm.
