“Hurry,” Anton hisses from the passenger-side front window as I approach the SUV, carrying Sara’s blanket-wrapped body against my chest. “Did you not get any of my messages? They’re less than ten blocks out.”
I tighten my grip on my human bundle. “I couldn’t leave until I learned what I needed.”
“What’s that?” Yan asks, opening the back door from the inside. He scoots over, and I climb in, being careful not to bump Sara’s head as I bring her into the car.
It’s bad enough she had a headache when I drugged her.
Ignoring Yan’s question, I settle Sara’s unconscious figure between us and shut the door before catching Ilya’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “To the airport. Make it fast.”
“On it,” Ilya mutters, slamming on the gas, and we torpedo forward, zooming down the quiet suburban street.
“What did you need to learn?” Yan persists, glancing at Sara’s face—the only part of her not wrapped in the blanket. With her thick lashes fanning out over pale cheeks, she looks like a sleeping Disney princess, and I don’t blame my teammate for the flicker of interest on his face.
I don’t blame him, but I still want to kill him.
“Something to do with her?” he continues, oblivious, then looks up at my face and blanches.
“Yes.” My voice is jagged ice. “Something to do with her.”
He nods, wisely looking away, and I wrap my arm around Sara’s shoulders, arranging her comfortably against me. In the distance, I hear sirens, accompanied by the roar of helicopter blades, but despite the approaching danger, I feel calm and content.
No, more than content—happy.
Sara warned me.
She chose me, when she had every reason not to. She might not love me yet, but she doesn’t hate me, and as I hold her tight, breathing in the delicate fragrance of her hair, I’m certain that one day, she will love me—that one day I’ll have all of her.
She warned me—she chose to be mine—and now she’ll stay that way.
I love her, and I’m going to keep her.
No matter what it takes.
* * *
THE END