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After a couple more people crossed our path, Ben finally gave the signal, and we shifted formation to take defensive positions around Leo and Viola, Finn glued to me. As a unit, we left the safety of the backstreet, joining Gordain and Ben who made up the front of our party, Jackson and Raphael forming the left and right flanks, and me at the rear.
There was nothing left to do but swiftly march across the expanse, not slowing or stopping for anyone.
We were a third of the way over before the illusion of safety was shattered.
“Hey,” a man shouted.
I performed a defensive glance around us. Oh fuck.
Rat-faced guy hadn’t left. Instead, he’d waited. At his shout, his friends paused. Turned back.
“Leo Banks,” he yelled, a smirk forming on his fuck-ugly face.
Our aim of not attracting attention was up. The tension hanging over our party peaked, and Viola uttered a small sound of fear.
“Banks!” another voice followed.
Then my brother gave a single order I was waiting for. “Run.”
I picked up Finn, sprinting with the boy clutched to me and keeping right behind his parents. With Viola carrying the baby, our party concentrated on matching her pace, the gap between us and the cars narrowing.
Ahead, the drivers climbed out and opened the back doors.
The gang of men pursued us, footsteps on stone telling me how close.
Shouts went up. More people swivelled to watch, gasps telling us they’d realised what was happening. It would be hard to be out in the city tonight without knowing the drama that was going on at the hotel.
Phones lifted, documenting our flight.
It was a thrill, I guessed, spotting a famous person. Maybe the gang behind us fancied their chances in stealing something they could sell. Or getting kudos for taking a swing at a rock star.
Fat fucking chance.
All I could focus on was getting the family to safety.
The last ten metres brought a chorus of yells behind us. But we were there. The cars right in front of us, engines on, ready to go. Leo guided Viola inside the first then reached for Finn, bringing his boy in close. Raphael scooted in beside them, and Gordain loaded into the front.
I went to close his door, the rest of my team readying to take the second car.
Then Finn’s voice screamed out. “Val!”
His anxious face appeared in the gap between the front seats. His gaze wide, frightened, and focused behind me.
“He’s got a knife. Turn around!”
Steeling myself, I slammed Gordain’s door and twisted to face the danger. A slam of a hand on metal told me Ben had released the driver to leave, their engine roaring. But the danger for us was far from over.
My remaining team members came face to face with the pursuing gang. Eight strong. All staring us down.
“Back up to the car,” Ben muttered.
“Ye first.” I gestured for him and Jackson to go behind me and dropped into a fighter’s stance, inching backwards while providing space for them to clear.
Rat-face was focused on me. At his shoulder, his equally ugly friend carried the weapon I’d noted earlier. A metal pole about a foot and a half long.
But it was the knife in Rat-face’s hand that snagged my focus.
Thank fuck the family had gone. Their car had pulled out into the traffic and zipped away, the engine sound cluing me in to their movements. In no time, they’d be across the city and to the safety of the helipad where Raphael would ensure they got to the new hotel.
