the boys be

wall of the VIP lounge, pressin

ugh the fro

the corridor. Earpieces coiled behind their ears. Mo

o to his mouth. His face

lungs

ous. They'd h

. Pointed a small finger toward a gray '

print on his tablet. "Corridor leads

rport schematics. Survival instinct ro

her knees, ripped

combat, prop wrangling, desperate scra

ench coat. Shoved the smallest bo

y around the left boy's head, covering his hair

traw hat, crammed it onto t

l mask over her nose and mouth. The fabric felt f

lead bodyguard pointe

ya

oped the smallest boy into her left arm. Gr

ms as a shield – a trick learned d

st toward th

. Head turned. Eyes locked

heart st

pulling the boys flat against her

d into his pocket. A small

ripping out his earpiece, face cont

o

en, dragging the boys into th

e VIP lounge do

a voic

ce

half-carried, half-dragged t

hless giggles vibrated against her neck – a bizarre counterpoin

r his mouth. "Shh!" Cold s

e door loomed. Gree

rash bar with

Cold, damp garage

ped onto

ed violently, squeezing her eyes shut and turning her head away

ck Maybach glided forw

from her knees,

d the front passenger door

d out, forming an impassable

ll-closed rear driver's side

in the sha

d from arctic ice. Cold. B