NATE’S ‘WAY’ HAD ACTUALLY been pretty genius and had gotten us well on track toward Warwickshire with not a Tom in sight.
After ringing Josh to come team up with Ethan as escorts, he’d sent Sean out for the Porsche, stuck Dad in the passenger seat with his head lowered and only the hair colour I’d inherited on show, and used them as decoy for me and my pack brothers to leave unhindered in the pickup. The Toms had bitten right away—apparently, Sean had led them on a merry ride all the way to Derby, before he and Dad headed back home.
It took around seventy minutes of Ethan driving, with Josh leaning forward on the rear bench and tapping his knee, me twitching about in the passenger seat and alternating between rapping my mobile against my lips and peering out the window, for a hut called
