She looked over her shoulder, but she couldn’t see Ethan. She hoped he was okay. She hoped his father hadn’t seen him throw that smoke bomb.

Light streamed across her face as they bolted outside. She let go of Lennon’s hand as they picked up the pace.

“That way!” She pointed right, and they ducked around a building and onto another street.

Footsteps pounded the pavement behind her.

“Stop them! Someone stop them!” a voice yelled.

She pushed forward, flying down the street. They turned a corner. The back of the compound loomed ahead of them, a stone wall about fifteen feet high. They just had to manage to get over it and they’d be in the clear to the gate.

“Go!” she panted to Lennon. “Just run as fast as you can.” She knew he was going slower for her.

“No!”

Someone fired a gun, and they both tensed. She ran as fast as her legs could take her.

“Dammit, Lennon,” she wheezed. She zigzagged as she heard more gunfire, trying to make herself a difficult target. Lennon did the same.

They were at the wall. She skidded to a stop and grabbed the stone, ignoring the scream of pain from her left hand.

One, two, three steps and she was up. A bullet whizzed by her ear.

She heard the sound of Lennon hitting the other side.

She jumped.

Her feet hit the ground.

On the other side, someone cursed.

They’d made it.

“Jesus.” Lennon took several quick steps away from the wall, breathing heavily. “What time is it?”

She checked her watch, letting out a sigh. “We made it with eight minutes to spare.”

“Jesus,” he said again, and then blew out a breath.

She looked past him. They were only a few yards from the gate. It was high—as high as the wall—and solid steel. Lights and cameras were mounted on top of it.

“Well,” she said, her breathing beginning to slow. “I guess this is it.”

He pushed a hand through his hair, and she watched with amusement as it fell awkwardly, one piece sticking up.

“What?” he asked.

“You have the most ridiculous hair, you know that?”

“I do. It’s part of my charm.”

She couldn’t argue with that.

His smile faltered a little, and he cleared his throat. “Thank you. For getting me here. And just…for everything.”

“Sure,” she said quietly.

“Know that the only reason I’m not asking for you to come with me again is because I understand now how stupid it was to think you ever would,” he said. His hand brushed hers, and she let her fingers slide between his. “Not because I don’t desperately want you to.”

She smiled. “I appreciate that.” She squeezed his hand. “I don’t want to leave the Q, but I do want to go with you, if you want to know the truth.”

He nodded, a small smile crossing his face. “I…” He trailed off, and didn’t finish whatever he was going to say.