The villa’s downstairs hallway was ten miles long.
Reese made the final turn by slamming into the front wall. She scrambled up the three stone stairs and tore at the front door. She heard crashes and yells behind her. She felt Charlie Hazard’s approach like a dragon’s breath on her neck.
One of Trace’s men stumbled down the main stairway. He managed to hold himself upright by hugging one arm around the banister. Reese screamed at him, “Hazard is behind me! Shoot him! Shoot!”
The man’s shoulder and neck and cheek were all leaking blood from tiny needle-sized wounds. He gasped and tried to speak, waving the silenced pistol in a wild sweep.
Reese clawed open the door and raced down the front stairs. She kept herself upright by taking a two-fisted grip on the sunlight.
Somehow she made it down the gravel drive. She had no idea whether someone was behind her or not. She could hear nothing but the whimper of her too-tight breaths and the thrashing tree limbs overhead. She flew through a crystal veil of sunlit rain.
The gatehouse appeared before her. Beyond that was the entrance and freedom. She had never moved so fast in her entire life. Her feet skipped over a cushion of air, not even touching the earth. Not even when she slipped on wet leaves and had to use both hands on the gravel, not even when she felt blood seeping from a wound on one wrist. She touched nothing. Saw nothing but the two stone pillars marking her escape.
A figure appeared beside the gatehouse, like the sunlight had coalesced into a final guardian. He lifted a hand. And fired.
She felt a tiny stab just below her left collarbone. Like a bee sting. Nothing that would come close to slowing her down.
Except her legs suddenly lost the ability to carry her forward.
Reese watched the gravel path lift up and slam into her face. She kept whimpering, kept drawing in that one breath that would refuel her escape.
A young man who looked vaguely familiar leaned down close enough to smile into her face. “I’d tell you, sweet dreams. But hey, why waste my breath?”