The jet’s landing gear hadn't even locked into place before the sirens on the Parisian tarmac began to wail.
Rhys did not wait for the stairs to stop moving. He grabbed my arm tight, squeezed his fingers through my heavy coat, and dragged me toward the back exit. "Move, Vivienne. Right now."
"My grandfather’s notes said nobody used this door anymore," I whispered, my chest hurting from the freezing air as our boots hit the hard ground.
"Your grandfather has been dead for ten years," Rhys barked, his eyes tracking the bright red lights that flashed across the wet ground. "Things change."
We ran. The police were already gathering near the main building, their loud voices echoing over the roar of the airplane engines. I reached inside my coat pocket. My fingers touched the rough edges of
