The scent of gunpowder and hot engine oil stung Mateo Rossi’s nose as he shoved the heavy hangar side door open. Before him, cast in the dim, rotating glow of red emergency lights.
The majestic silhouette of Julian Vane’s Gulfstream G700 stood like a slumbering silver monster. But it wouldn't be sleeping for long. The sound of boots slamming against the concrete outside echoed like a broken typewriter, growing faster and closer with every second.
"Hurry, El! Don't look back!" Mateo shouted, his voice raspy from the burning sensation in his throat caused by the lingering EMP gas.
Elena Vance sprinted behind him, her tattered silk gown fluttering, revealing legs that were scraped and filthy. She was gasping for air, her lungs feeling as though they were scorched by the humid Caribbean nig
