withdrawal, but I had no time to mull it over. I moved in step with him, blocking out the pain.
A screech filled the air.
“Over there,” a guard yelled as Yulia cried out again, heading for us instantly.
I forced my weak leg to move, limping more than running, trying to keep up with Warwick as we weaved and darted through the foliage, knowing the owl-shifter would be able to see us like it was daytime.
Over the profuse panting of my breath, I could vaguely make out more shouting. Breaking through a hedge, Warwick headed directly for a large, old tree standing high above others.
An old motorcycle leaned against it.
That’s what he and Zander had been talking about. Our escape had been planned.
Warwick jumped on, his foot slamming down on the kickstart. With a roar, the motorcycle came to life, giving away our location. The bike lurched forward, taking off. For a split second, I feared he was going to leave me, but he paused the bike as I came up to him.
He handed me the gun Zander gave us. “Don’t hesitate.”
I nodded, took it from him, and swung my bad leg over with a cry, my pants saturated with blood.
“The owl will follow us,” he said over the roar of the bike. “Shoot to kill.”
The motorcycle lurched forward, my arms wrapping around his waist so I wouldn’t fall off. A handful of guards breached the foliage, their guns pointed at us.
The bike tore off, Warwick weaving away from them.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Bullets hit the ground, splintered trees, and zoomed by my ear, zinging off the metal of the motorcycle. Warwick flinched as blood spurted out of his bicep, pushing the bike harder, tearing across the land. Ammunition volleyed after us, but we quickly escaped their reach as he took us down the hill. Nature had consumed the old paths with tall grass, brush, and debris, forcing us to make our own.
The roar of the engine cut off the gunshots and commotion from the prison break, the motorbike taking us farther away. Bouncing and sliding, I gritted my teeth at the violent jolts. I dug my legs into his hips, my shaky arms holding him so tightly I could feel his heartbeat through his chest. I practically became his backpack. My hands skimmed his bare torso, curving over his muscles.
Finally, the bike hit a paved road at the bottom, skidding. Warwick curved for the bridge. For a moment, my shoulders sagged in relief. The Pest side was so close I could taste it.
Home.
Freedom.
Screech! The owl dove down for us. I wasn’t afraid it could overpower us, but I knew it would follow us, find out where we were going, leading the entire Halalhaz team to us.
“Holy shit.” My eyes widened, noticing the harness the owl was wearing. A live cam. Yulia was reporting our whereabouts straight back to the prison. They probably already had guards coming for us.
There was no choice now. She had to die.
Locking my knees tighter against him, I felt one of his hands reach back, clamping down on my thigh to keep me steady as I held the gun with both hands and aimed it at the bird. My arms shook, and shadows started to line the edges of my vision. Do. Not. Give. Up. I pointed the gun at the owl. She swooped and weaved, making it almost impossible for me to target her.
Bang! The gun recoiled, and the bird screeched but dipped clear of the shot.
Warwick gripped me harder, his thumb digging high into my inner thigh, close to the seam of my pants, shooting another wave of energy into my bloodstream. His touch jumped my body, giving me focus. Peering down the barrel of the gun, I waited.
She hooted, circling us.
The end of the bridge stood only yards away to the road leading straight into the neutral zone, where both sides could hide.
“Kovacs,” he muttered my name, his fingers squeezing my leg.
Ignoring him, I held. Wait…wait…Now!
Boom.
A painful shriek shrilled the night air, sounding almost the same as a woman’s cry, and the bird’s form plunged into the icy river below with a splash.
With both relief and sadness, I lowered my arms, my grip sweaty and slippery on the gun. It had to be done, but different from what I used to believe in training, I didn’t enjoy taking a fae’s life. I had seen too much to think them all evil and worthy of death. She was doing her job. But our survival was more vital…to