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“He’s dead,” a voice I didn’t recognize shouted.
“It’s a flesh wound, but I need to stop the bleeding,” someone else, who sounded a lot like DeDe, said as I slowly opened my eyes and stared into the green-gray ones of my beloved Brand. His gaze didn’t waver as he and someone else untied me. Once free, he pulled me into his arms.
“You’re safe. Max is dead,” he said, stroking my hair.
“I can’t get these cuffs off,” a man behind me said.
“Move!” I heard someone else bellow.
“Typhon! I need to stop the bleeding! What are you doing?” I turned my head and saw it was, in fact, DeDe speaking.
“You can do it after I get Penelope free,” he shouted back.
“I don’t understand what’s going on,” I said to Brand.
“Hold still. Do not move even a millimeter. Brand, hold her arms as tightly as you can. Seshat, get over here. Cover her ears and hold her head still.”
I squeezed my eyes closed, not knowing what to expect or what would happen if I moved. Then I heard the pfft of another shot, and my hands were free.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Typhon. You could’ve killed her!” Brand shouted at him as he pulled me from the chair, lifted me in his arms, and carried me away.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t,” I heard Typhon reply as we raced from the room.
“They brought me in on the right. There’s a way out only a few yards from here.” I said when Brand veered left.
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“Typhon’s hit but not seriously wounded,” Brand told someone I didn’t recognize, who opened the door leading outside.
“Get her out of here!” Sven yelled after we walked through it. He raced past us in the direction of the sound of shots being fired inside the caves behind us.
“This way,” another man shouted at us. Brand rushed over to an SUV and set me inside the back passenger seat.
“Thanks, Tank.”
“Where to, boss?”
“The airport. We’re getting the fuck out of Italy, and we’re never coming back.” He yanked something out of his ear, threw it on the vehicle’s floor, then pulled me into his arms. “Forgive me if I cannot speak yet. I just need to hold you.”
I wrapped my arms around him. “Same.”
“Nem said to go straight to the private airfield. There’s a plane waiting,” Tank said when we arrived outside Florence’s airport but turned away from the entrance.
After stopping at a guardhouse, Tank identified himself and us, and we were waved through. He pulled up close to a private jet with its airstairs already down.
Brand got out first and held his hand out to help me. “Please give my thanks to Nemesis and the rest of the team, including yourself,” he said.
“Will do, and you’re welcome.”
“We’re scheduled for takeoff in approximately thirty minutes. I’m Angel, and I’ll be piloting today with Captain Lavery.” A man who was seated in the cockpit saluted us. “Make yourselves comfortable. As soon as the others arrive, we’ll be on our way.”
“Others? Who?” Brand asked.
The woman pulled out her cell phone.
“Seshat, Puck, and Typhon. We’re flying them into Gatwick, then we’ll continue on to JFK.”