Angels in imperial uniforms flew for it, blotting out the sun. Sirens wailed.
Even if word had gone out about their escape, the Eternal City—and all of Pangera—had bigger things to deal with.
“And Ophion needed a shot at survival,” Lidia added. “So long as the Spine remained intact, they couldn’t gain any ground.”
She’d once told Ruhn that Ophion had been trying and failing to blow up the Spine for years now. Yet she’d done it. Somehow, she’d done it … for all of them.
They turned onto an even larger avenue, this one leading right out of the city, and Flynn’s van pulled up beside them again. “We’ll cover the highway. Get to the port!” he shouted. Lidia saluted the male, and Flynn winked at Ruhn before the van peeled away and the Fae lord slid the door shut.
But ahead of them, at the gate through the city walls, a light began flashing. An alarm blaring atop another guard station.
From the massive stone archway, a metal grate began to descend, preparing to seal the city. Trapping those responsible for the station attack inside—or trapping them.
The guards, all wolves in imperial uniforms, whirled toward them, and Ruhn winced as Baxian unleashed his bullets before they could draw their weapons. People shrieked along the sidewalks, fleeing into buildings and ducking behind parked cars.
“We’re not going to make it,” Baxian called as Lidia zoomed toward the guard station.
“Lidia,” Athalar warned.
“Get down!” Lidia barked, and Ruhn shut his eyes, sinking low as the grate lowered at an alarming rate. Metal screamed and exploded right above them, the car rocking, shuddering—
Yet Lidia kept driving. She raced onto the open road beyond the city as the grate slammed shut behind them.
“Cutting it a little close, don’t you think?” Hunt shouted to Lidia, and Ruhn opened his eyes to find that the gunner had been ripped clean off. Baxian was clinging for dear life to the back of the jeep, a manic grin on his face.
They had made it, and the closure of the city gate had sealed in any land-bound cars or patrols. Precisely as Lidia had planned, no doubt.
“That was the easy part,” Lidia called over the wind, and the jeep sailed out into the countryside, into the olive groves and rolling hills beyond.
Ruhn stirred from where he’d collapsed against the side paneling. His wrist bled—the wound had reopened.
Declan said over the radio, “Let me talk to him.”
For a heartbeat, Ruhn met Lidia’s bright, golden eyes. Then she extended the radio to him. It was all Ruhn could do to clutch the radio in his good hand. Good being relative. His fingernails were gone.
“Hey, Dec,” he groaned.
Declan laughed thickly—like he might have been holding back tears. “It’s so fucking good to hear your voice.”
Ruhn squeezed his eyes shut, throat working. “I love you. You know that?”
“Tell me again when I see you in an hour. You’ve got a Hel of a drive ahead. Put Daybright back on.”
Ruhn silently handed the radio to Lidia, careful not to touch her. Not to look at her.
“This is Daybright,” Lidia said, and Ruhn glanced behind them. A pillar of smoke rose from the part of the city where the glass domes of the train depot used to gleam.
“You want good news or bad news first?” Dec asked over the radio.
“Good.”
“Most of the imperial security forces are at the train station, and the city is under lockdown. Irithys made it out—she vanished into the countryside. Off to wherever.”
“I gave her instructions on where to go—what to do,” Lidia said quietly. But then asked, “What’s the bad news?”
“Mordoc and two dozen dreadwolves also made it out of the southwestern gate before it shut. I think they’ve figured out you’re headed for the coast.”
“Fuck,” Athalar spat from the back seat.
“Flynn?” Lidia asked.
“Flynn’s behind them. Mordoc and company are crossing onto your road. They’ll be on your tail within ten minutes at your current speed. So go faster.”
“I’m already driving at top speed.”
“Then you’ll have to find a way to ditch them.”
Cold washed through Ruhn that had nothing to do with his injuries or bleeding arm. He dared himself to look at Lidia—really look at her.
She merely stared at the road ahead. The wind ripped strands of her golden hair free from the chignon high on her head. Calculation swirled in her eyes.