Cassandraâs 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 canâtâ â
They canât take her.
They canât 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.
Sheâs 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 canât let him take her.
My gun is in my hand, but I canât shoot. I canât risk hitting her. If I aimed for him and accidentally killed her instead⦠I would immediately turn the gun on myself.
âCassandra!â I shout, letting her know Iâm coming.
Heâs 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.
âNo!â 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 donât stop running.
I canât stop chasing her.
âHans!â she screams.
Cassandra screams my name.
Iâm closer.
âCassandra!â
Iâm getting closer.
And then a bullet rips through my thigh, and I fall.
My hands catch the pavement, and I roll. But Iâm not quick enough. Because when I climb back to my feet and lift my head, Cassandra is being hauled up the stairs.
âNo!â
She disappears into the plane.
I stumble on my first step, then shove the pain to the back of my mind and run.
âCassandra!â 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.
Itâs getting farther away.
Itâs going to take off.
Someone pulls the stairs closed from inside the plane, but I canât shoot at them.
I wonât be able to disable a plane at this distance with a handgun, and I canât chance damaging the hull. Canât 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.
âDonât shoot,â I try to yell, but I choke on the words.
âDo not shoot!â Dom shouts from beside me.
The plane makes another ninety-degree turn, and it starts to pick up speed.
From this angle, weâre looking straight at the windows on the side of the plane. Iâm still running. I canât 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.