Cassandra’s screams echo around the hangar, and I try to run faster.
No, no, no.
Men are shouting behind me, and I can hear their footsteps as they chase after me.
She can’t—
They can’t take her.
They can’t have her.
My lungs are screaming after ten steps.
I need to move faster.
I break out of the hangar.
I can see her. I can still see her.
She’s kicking and screaming and reaching behind her to claw at the face of the giant man carrying her.
The man carrying her.
I memorize his features.
I can’t let him take her.
My gun is in my hand, but I can’t shoot. I can’t risk hitting her. If I aimed for him and accidentally killed her instead… I would immediately turn the gun on myself.
“Cassandra!” I shout, letting her know I’m coming.
He’s only ten yards ahead of me.
I can get there.
But then I see it. The plane rolling toward us. And the stairs being tossed open.
“No!” I bellow out my dread.
Someone steps into view on the plane at the top of the stairs and raises a gun.
The shots are loud, but I don’t stop running.
I can’t stop chasing her.
“Hans!” she screams.
Cassandra screams my name.
I’m closer.
“Cassandra!”
I’m getting closer.
And then a bullet rips through my thigh, and I fall.
My hands catch the pavement, and I roll. But I’m not quick enough. Because when I climb back to my feet and lift my head, Cassandra is being hauled up the stairs.
“No!”
She disappears into the plane.
I stumble on my first step, then shove the pain to the back of my mind and run.
“Cassandra!” This time my voice breaks.
My Cassandra.
The plane takes a ninety-degree turn onto one of the crossways, moving from the outside lane toward the runway.
It’s getting farther away.
It’s going to take off.
Someone pulls the stairs closed from inside the plane, but I can’t shoot at them.
I won’t be able to disable a plane at this distance with a handgun, and I can’t chance damaging the hull. Can’t chance doing something that would only cause it to falter midflight or crash during its landing. Not with my Butterfly aboard.
Footsteps surround me. The hit to my leg slows me enough for the other men to catch up.
“Don’t shoot,” I try to yell, but I choke on the words.
“Do not shoot!” Dom shouts from beside me.
The plane makes another ninety-degree turn, and it starts to pick up speed.
From this angle, we’re looking straight at the windows on the side of the plane. I’m still running. I can’t stop.
When I see Cassandra through the window, my heart seizes.
She shoves the man trying to hold her and lunges to the window.
Her hands press against the pane, and her eyes lock with mine.
And when I read my name on her lips, my soul splinters.
And when I watch a hand reach for her, see the glint of the syringe aimed for her neck, when I see it roughly pushed into her skin, the world around me turns red.
