“Do you have enough layers?” Olivia was asking Gabriel. “Face protection? It’s thirty below there. You need to watch out for frostbite.”

Gabriel pulled her close. “We’ll only be outside for a few minutes.” He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled, running his hands up and down her back as if memorizing the feel of her.

Rufus was making a low, keening whine. Cal squatted in front of him and ruffled his head. “I know, I know. I didn’t think I’d be going away again so soon,” Cal told him. “I’m sorry. But I gotta do this.” He was speaking to Rufus but it felt like the words were meant for Bethany.

“Just hurry back,” she whispered.

Danny had told me how Kian had snapped at Emily, but he must have apologized because the two of them stood with their foreheads touching, as securely together as two people can be. Kian leaned forward and kissed the top of Emily’s head. “It’s going to be okay,” he told her, and she nodded. But then she pressed herself to him and clung on like a limpet.

And me? This time, I wasn’t saying goodbye to anyone. This time, I was going. I swallowed and tried to fight down the rising panic. Danny caught my eye from across the room and gave me a nod: you’ve got this.

I gave him a weak smile but inside, my stomach was twisting. No I don’t.

* * *

At the airport, we were just getting our bags out of the car when red and blue lights lit up the night. Secret Service agents in black suits poured out of a big black SUV, led by a guy with close-cropped, graying hair.

“Miller?” asked Kian in disbelief.

“Can’t let you go,” said Miller. “You’re dating the President’s daughter. If you got caught breaking into a German facility….”

Kian got in his face. “One of my guys is missing, I’m bringing him back!”

Miller sighed, pulled out a phone and dialed. Then he held it out to Kian.

Kian took the phone and listened. “Yes, Mr. President,” he said at last. “I got it, Sir.” He passed the phone back to Miller. “Either I stay here,” he grated, “or we can’t go at all.”

Danny put his hand on Kian’s shoulder. “We’ll be okay,” he told him, but he sounded shaken. We hadn’t even left yet, and we were already a man down.

* * *

The day was a blur.

First, the fifteen hour flight to Latvia. Then the sick tension of standing at the Immigration desk while a Latvian official checked my fake passport.