I yanked the heavy door of Drakon's primary SUV open and climbed into the passenger seat, slamming it shut hard enough to rattle the frame. Outside the tinted glass, I could see his men moving fast to clear the weapons and load Viktor’s dropped gear, casting cautious glances toward the front of the convoy. None of them dared make eye contact with me through the window.
A minute later, the driver’s side door opened.
Drakon climbed in, the heavy scent of pine, leather, and gunpowder filling the cab as he pulled the door shut. He didn't turn the key immediately. He just sat there in the silence, his large hands gripping the top of the steering wheel, his knuckles stark and pale against the dark leather.
I kept my head turned toward the window, watching the shadowy treeline, refusing to be
