Page 116 of Fallen Hero

“Mason—”

“Tell. Me.”

“Jack and Catarina are en route now.”

“That’s not what I asked,” I growled, unable to keep the dread from seeping in.

“Amir’s got a private fleet of jets. One is being fueled.”

Fucking hell.

“Flight plan?”

“Germany. Three passengers, bogus names.”

Dread turned into terror. Jason was taking her back to Berlin.

“Who do we know—”

“If we miss them, a team will be waiting in Berlin for them.”

If we missed intercepting Calista at the airport, she’d be on a six-hour flight alone with Jason. Six hours was a long fucking time to be at the mercy—

“Calli won’t get on that plane,” Atlanta cut through my thoughts. “She’ll fight and buy us the time we need to get there.”

What Atlanta didn’t say, but what she meant was: Calista would fight to the death—hers or Jason’s.

Her endgame.

She’d take him out or die trying.

That razor wire that had been wrapped around my heart was gone. Calli had unraveled the barbs until there was nothing left of the old pain, leaving me vulnerable to this new emotion—abject panic.

A fear I’d never known threatened to choke me. Calista would choose dying for her cause over waiting for me to find her. A terrifying reality sank in, a truth there was an overwhelming likelihood I’d lose her—and faced with that possibility, I could no longer deny I’d fallen in love with Calista Ventura.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

It was now or never.

Bodhi was occupied, speaking on his phone with his back to me, eyes out the open hangar, not paying attention.

Jason was standing next to the airstairs, talking to the pilot.

If I got on that plane, that would be it. Atlanta could plead with Tom to send a team to Berlin to get me, but unless he was feeling altruistic, I’d be fucked. I had no doubt Mason would come for me, and when he did, he’d rally his team—eight against Jason’s army was a battle I didn’t want to consider.

I couldn’t let Mason get hurt because of me. He’d try to save me without regard for his safety.

They’d left me to sit in a chair while the jet was being prepared for takeoff.

My only chance at keeping Mason safe was to escape.

Abandon my mission and sneak away while both men were occupied.

I had Jason in profile. He was a classically handsome man. Back in the day, I understood my sister’s fascination with him; he’d been good looking then too. He’d been attentive and affectionate. He’d made her laugh, called her pretty girl, and he’d even pretended to be a gentleman, opening doors for her and my mother.

Until someone experienced trauma, they couldn’t fully comprehend all the ways it takes over your life. How your brain latches onto a particular thought until it’s all you can think about—obsess over. The inconsequential consumes your every waking hour even when, logically, you know it’s trivial.

My sister had died in the ugliest of ways. She’d lived through years of abuse and torture, yet my mind kept circling back to the moment Jason had turned on her. The moment when she realized the man she loved was not the gentleman she’d thought, but Satan. The confusion and fear she must’ve felt. The pain of his treachery.