BECKETT
It was going back for Ollie that did it.
The front gates were closing on us.
Sven couldn’t open them up again that fast—the gate motors only moved at one speed—and people were behind me.
I had to get out now.
Our entire plan balanced on my escape.
I could see the wrought iron closing slowly ahead of me, the gap between the two gates growing smaller and smaller.
I had to go for it. I had no other choice. I couldn’t get caught. I had to give Sage and Jack enough time to make their getaway.
So I gassed the motorcycle, and we surged forward even faster, Ollie huddled against my leather jacket, drizzle collecting on my visor.
Only a few more feet.
But the gates were shutting. It’d be too close. We were too close.
The front tire broke through the gap, but the gates continued to come together, and I felt wrought iron catch my right leg, tearing at the jeans and skin at my calf.
I accelerated harder. And then … we were out. I sped out into the road, giving a hoot of triumph. The gates immediately began to reopen, and I saw three motorcycles speeding down the driveway toward me.
My leg throbbed, bad. But that was the least of my worries at this point. I’d have people on my tail within seconds.
The bungee had maintained its hold, and Sari’s plastic arms were still at my waist. Her legs looked intact, and she remained sitting up behind me.
She still looked like a real human. So there was that, at least.
I pulled Ollie closer to me.
As if congratulating us on our escape, thunder clapped across the sky, and the heavens opened up with rain.
“Hold on everybody!” I shouted over the downpour, ignoring the knot twisting in my stomach from the storm.
I couldn’t get distracted now.
It was time to fly.