Alex pulled the door shut and I watched her through the side mirror. Kara was already sprinting toward the Range Rover, but Alex remained rooted in place.
She tilted her head back, gaze traveling up the Gothic mansion's facade. I couldn't see her expression clearly, but something in her posture made my chest tighten. Walking away from her childhood home, the place her mother had loved so much. My heart hurt for her.
Seconds stretched. My fingers tapped against my thigh, a nervous habit I thought I'd broken years ago.
Kara called out something I couldn't hear through the van's closed windows. The sound seemed to break whatever spell had held Alex in place. She turned sharply, jogging to the passenger side of the Rover with the books clutched against her chest, the silver fur coat trailing behind her like a battle standard.
"Let's go," I told Cam, keeping my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
Cam nodded once, pressing her foot to the accelerator. The van surged forward, tires crunching over gravel as we picked up speed. In the mirror, I watched the Rover pull out right behind us, keeping pace as we headed for the gate.
"You're going to be fine," I said, keeping my voice level. "We've run this exact scenario sixteen different ways."
Sabine swallowed hard, her throat working visibly. A thin sheen of sweat glistened along her hairline despite the chill in the air. She nodded once, jerky but determined.
"I know," she whispered, fingers uncurling slightly from the armrest. "I trust you."
Something warm unfurled in my chest at those three simple words. After twelve days of suspicion and questions and resistance, she finally trusted us. Trusted me. I wanted to reach back and take her hand, but instead I gave her a small nod of acknowledgment.
Gravel crunched beneath our tires as Cam navigated the driveway through the wall of trees on either side. Her MP7 sat near her right hand, ready to be called into service.
I glanced at the side mirror, tracking the Range Rover that followed close behind us. Kara kept a perfect distance, not so close as to risk collision if we had to brake suddenly, not so far that we'd lose visual contact.
The south gate loomed ahead, its wrought iron gleaming dully in the fading light. Cam's hands remained perfectly steady on the wheel, her breathing even. Only the slight tightening around her eyes betrayed any tension.
"Almost there," I murmured, more for Sabine's benefit than anything else. "Just a few more minutes and we'll be clear."
Cam reached up and pressed the button on the remote clipped to the visor. The gate swung open with excruciating slowness, each inch of movement stretching time until I could barely breathe. Our van finally passed through onto the empty country road, and Cam made a clean right turn, her movements precise and unhurried despite the tension crackling in the air.
I kept my eyes fixed on the side mirror, watching as the Range Rover made the same right turn seconds later. The gates began closing behind them automatically, the metal teeth meshing together with a finality that made something in my chest loosen slightly.
"All clear," I murmured.
The van picked up speed on the country road, trees standing like sentinels on either side. We were maybe a quarter mile from the property now. I glanced at Cam, noting the set of her jaw, the readiness in her posture.
The ground trembled beneath our tires. Not violently, but unmistakable. I felt it through my seat, a subtle vibration that traveled up my spine. Cam's hands remained steady on the wheel. She had expected this. We all had.
I twisted in my seat, looking back through the rear window. A column of flame and smoke rose into the sky, orange and red fingers shooting upward like some terrible flower blooming in fast motion. There was no explosion visible from this distance, just fire, hungry and determined, consuming the Gothic mansion that had been our sanctuary, and Alex’s home for more than three decades.
The sight should have horrified me. Instead, I felt a cold satisfaction settle in my bones. Fire erased evidence. Fire bought us time. Fire meant we might actually get Sabine to safety after all.
I turned back to face forward, meeting Cam's eyes briefly. She gave me the smallest nod, a gesture so subtle anyone else might have missed it. But I understood. Phase one complete.
Behind me, Sabine gasped so loudly I heard it over the engine's steady hum. I twisted in my seat to see her pressed against the window, her face a mask of shock and horror.
"What the fuck?!" Her voice cracked.
Cam kept her eyes locked on the asphalt ahead, her expression unchanged. "It was necessary," she said, voice flat as the horizon. Her hands remained perfectly positioned at ten and two on the wheel, our speed never wavering.
I shifted to face Sabine fully. Her eyes reflected twin pillars of fire, pupils contracted to pinpoints despite the van's dimness. "Don't worry, Sabine," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Focus on now. On what's ahead."
Her gaze snapped to mine, tears spilling over. "But the house..." Her voice trembled like a plucked wire. "How? Why?" Each tear caught the orange glow as it tracked down her cheek. I remembered how she'd walked those halls fortwelve days, gradually letting down her guard, finding moments of peace in that Gothic monstrosity.
"So they can't track us," I explained, watching her face carefully. "So they don't find your fingerprints there." I paused, letting each reason land. "So we have time to get away."
Sabine looked back at the receding inferno, now just a bright spot against the darkening sky. I watched comprehension slowly replace shock in her expression. Her breathing steadied. Her shoulders lowered a fraction. The kitten pressed its nose against her fingertips through the carrier bars, and she absently stroked its fur.
"Time," she repeated softly, almost to herself. "How much time does it buy us?"
