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Marcus smiled. “Good. Smart. I like it.”

“Can you...can you tell me anything more—”

“No,” he said firmly. “Your mate will meet us at the safe house...”

He trailed off.

“If he can,” she whispered and dropped her eyes.

Everyone was quiet.

“Yeah,” Marcus finally replied, and she appreciated that he didn’t lie to her.

As the plane straightened and leveled out, she undid her seatbelt and curled up in a ball, closing her eyes.

Italy.

She was going to Italy, where she may or may not be reunited with the male everyone—including him—was calling her mate.

This was not how she dreamed of it happening.

But as long as he was alive, Ella didn’t care.

A quick calculation and she worked out it would take eight or nine hours to get there, so she had a lot of thinking and worrying time.

Damn it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

MACK

Mack stared out of the helicopter as they flew over Russia, heading for the Finland border. They didn’t bother with headphones. Only Kurt wore them so he could communicate with the pilot who they’d just met.

How Brayden had arranged it so quickly, Mack had no idea. But he had, and they were almost out of the country.

Thank fuck.

However, they were still flying over the country, and at any point, they could be shot down.

Sure, they wouldn’t die unless taken by surprise and the entire bird—along with all of them in it—were blown to pieces. Could happen. But even if they could teleport in time, there was a chance of a serious injury which would need healing time.

Mack was going to assume, given a nuclear war was about to happen, Russia wasn’t the ideal country to choose for a relaxing spa and massage weekend.

Neither, if it escalated, would anywhere on the planet.

All he was focused on was crossing the fucking border and getting to Ella.

Thank God, Mack had gotten hold of Marcus to arrange for her to be evacuated along with the other high-ranking members and the royal family.

She’d messaged to say she was on the plane, which Mack appreciated, but right now he was gripping his pack andweapons ready to teleport or jump. Whichever was the best action if Russian jets turned up.

“Fuck, this is stressing me out.” Oliver groaned.

“Ten minutes,” the pilot yelled.

Mack’s knee bounced up and down as he watched the horizon. If they didn’t get shot down by Russian fighter pilots, then the sun might get them.

What a fucking day.