45
Peter
“Hurry,” Anton hisses from the passenger-side front window as I approach the SUV, carrying Sara’s blanket-wrapped body against my chest. “Did you not get any of my messages? They’re less than ten blocks out.”
I tighten my grip on my human bundle. “I couldn’t leave until I learned what I needed.”
“What’s that?” Yan asks, opening the back door from the inside. He scoots over, and I climb in, being careful not to bump Sara’s head as I bring her into the car.
It’s bad enough she had a headache when I drugged her.
Ignoring Yan’s question, I settle Sara’s unconscious figure between us and shut the door before catching Ilya’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “To the airport. Make it fast.”
“On it,” Ilya mutters, slamming on the gas, and we torpedo forward, zooming down the quiet su
