We did it. We survived.

We’re already by the plane, and I see Thomas, the driver from my hair appointment, standing by the open door. “Please get them inside,” I tell him in a shaking voice, and he nods, shepherding my parents and Rosa up the stairs. “I’ll be with you in a second,” I tell my dad when he tries to get me to join them. “I just need a moment.” Liberating myself from his grip, I turn back toward the limo.

“Julian!” Raising the AK-47 above my head, I wave at him with the weapon. “Over here! Come, let’s go!”

He looks at me, and I see a huge smile light up his face.

Half-laughing, half-crying, I begin to run toward him, cognizant of nothing but my joy—and then the wall next to the limo explodes, sending him and Lucas flying.

36

Julian

Pain. Darkness.

For a second, I’m back in that windowless room, with Majid’s knife slicing through my face. My stomach heaves, vomit rising in my throat. Then my mind clears, and I become cognizant of a dull ringing in my ears.

That didn’t happen in Tajikistan.

I didn’t feel this hot there, either.

Too hot. So hot I’m burning.

Fuck! A spurt of adrenaline chases away all traces of mental fog. Moving with lightning speed, I roll several times, putting out the flames eating at my vest. Nausea grips at my insides, my head throbbing with agony, but when I stop, the fire is gone.

Panting furiously, I lie still and try to regain my senses. What the fuck just happened?

The ringing in my head eases slightly, and I pry open my eyelids to see burning pieces of rubble all around me.

An explosion. It must’ve been an explosion.

As soon as the realization comes to me, I hear it.

A burst of gunfire, followed by answering shots.

My heart stops beating. Nora!

The jolt of panic is so intense, it supersedes everything. No longer cognizant of pain, I surge to my feet, stumbling as my knees buckle for a second before stiffening to support my weight.

Whipping my head from side to side, I look for the source of gunshots, and then I see it.

A small figure darting behind a large plane after letting loose another volley of shots. Behind her is a group of four armed men, all dressed in SWAT gear.

In a split second, I take in the rest of the scene. The hangar wall near the limo is gone, blown into pieces, and through the opening, I see the police chopper sitting on the grass, its blades now still and silent.

My men in that last SUV must’ve lost the fight, leaving us exposed to Sullivan’s remaining forces.

Before that thought is fully formed in my mind, I’m already on the move. The limo is burning next to me, but the fire is in the front, not the back, so I still have a few seconds. Leaping toward the car, I wrench open one of the doors and climb inside. The weapons are still in the stash, so I grab two machine guns and jump out, knowing the car could blow up at any moment. As I do so, I notice Lucas struggling to get to his feet a dozen yards away. He’s alive; I register that with a distant sense of relief.