45
Sara
I’m already by the plane when I see the black van.
Interpol.
They’ve caught up to us.
“Anton!” I shout over the gunfire and the chopper noise as he reappears in the plane’s doorway with a rocket launcher propped up on his shoulder. “They’re—”
Boom!
The flash of the explosion burns my retinas, the sound so deafening my eardrums nearly explode. The sky seems to turn into a ball of fire, and burning bits of metal rain down.
Holy f**k.
Anton shot down the chopper.
My stunned gaze falls on the van, and I see two familiar figures jump out.
“Yan! Ilya!” I’ve never been this glad to see them—especially when they bend down to drape Peter’s arms over their shoulders and sprint together for the plane.
“Hurry!” Anton yells, and I hear the sirens getting louder. “We have to go now.”
