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He smiled. "Don't forget that I can also dreamwalk. I can control these two from afar and reinforce the thrall while they are sleeping."

"You are incredible, darling." She reached for his hand. "You should wake them up now, or they will get suspicious."

Reluctantly, he did as she instructed.

The ride to the airport was tense beneath the casual chatter. Carol kept up a steady stream of complaints about Milan Fashion Week, and the difficulties of dealing with prima donnas like Francesca Sobiouti, who was in fact one of Turner's operatives and would back up their claims if asked.

Lokan responded with appropriate sounds while his mind churned with details of their escape plan.

Beijing Capital International Airport sprawled before them like a small city, all gleaming terminals and endless humanity. Perfect for getting lost in the crowds, but that wasn't the plan.

"Your guards look nervous," Carol murmured as they headed for security.

"They are always anxious in crowds," he said. "They are concerned about being able to protect me."

They cleared security without incident, the guards flashing credentials that got them waved through with their weapons. The terminal stretched before them, duty-free shops and restaurants, and gates leading to everywhere and nowhere.

"Lounge?" Carol suggested. "We have time."

The appearance of calm mattered. They checked into the business class lounge, where Lokan ordered drinks for the four of them.

Sipping her drink, Carol observed the bodyguards who were sitting at another table to give them privacy. "Are they on their phones scrolling through TikTok, or are they getting calls?"

Lokan followed her gaze. "Probably TikTok. I'm sure they've already reported the impromptu trip."

Carol pulled out her phone, snapping a selfie with the drink. "For my vlog."

When the boarding announcement came forty minutes later, they gathered their things casually; Carol touched up her lipstick, and Lokan ensured that they didn't forget anything.

"Sir." Gandel's voice was tight with barely controlled tension.

Fuck! They were busted.

It was time for plan B.

They turned, Carol's expression one of mild annoyance at the interruption.

"Yes?"

"I've been ordered to inform you that Lord Navuh wishes you to stay in Beijing. You need to cancel your trip."

Lokan pretended to let surprise and irritation war on his face. "I will call him. We have to go to Milan or the company goes under." He pulled out his phone, the one issued by the Brotherhood.

"I must insist." Gandel's hand moved to stop him, not quite touching him but making the threat clear.

They needed to get rid of the bodyguards, but it had to be done somewhere where no one would notice two grown men sleeping in the middle of the airport. After the guards were dealt with, he and Carol would continue to their alternative route.

"Fine," Lokan sighed with frustration that wasn't at all feigned. "Carol, darling, call Francesca and try to mollify her."

Carol's expression was perfect—annoyance mixed with resignation. "She's going to be furious."

"Can't be helped." He turned back to Gandel. "I assume we're returning to the office?"

"Yes, sir."

They gathered their luggage, Lokan grumbling about wasted tickets and failing business. Around them, passengers streamed toward the gate, oblivious to the drama playing out in their midst.

The walk back through the terminal felt endless. Security personnel were again retrieving their luggage, which took over an hour. They wheeled their luggage toward the exit, and the automatic doors whooshed open, Beijing's polluted air hitting them like a wall.

Lokan decided that the best place to leave his sleeping bodyguards would be in the car.

"You can wait here. I'll get the car," Samir offered.

"We'll just walk over there." For his plan to work, Lokan needed the car to stay in the parking lot.

The moment they were all inside the vehicle, this time with the bodyguards insisting on sitting up front and Lokan and Carol in the back, Lokan entered their minds, sending them into deep sleep.

"Do we destroy their phones?" Carol asked.

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. The moment they get a call and don't respond, my father will assume I killed them. We can just leave them here. The thrall will eventually dissipate, and if not, their brethren will find them here once they arrive."

He took his own Brotherhood phone and dropped it onto the back seat.

Surprisingly, it was difficult to say goodbye to this last thing that connected him to his home.

"Let's get the luggage."

After retrieving their things, they locked the car, and Lokan threw the key under it.

Getting back on the street, they hailed a taxi, and Lokan, along with the driver, loaded their luggage into the trunk.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

"The train station," Lokan said loudly so the people standing on the sidewalk would hear them. "Quickly. We're late."

As the taxi pulled away, Carol leaned against Lokan, every line of her body radiating tension as well as excitement.

His mate loved these kinds of games.

"The train station wasn't part of the plan," she said. "Are you improvising?"

"Not at all. That's not where we are going." He leaned forward, pulling out a thick stack of bills. "Uncle, how would you like to earn a month's salary for one fare?"

The driver's eyes widened in the rearview mirror. "Where do you want me to take you?"

"The night market in Dongcheng. Then forget you ever saw us."

"I've already forgotten," the man said, snatching the bills.

"They'll have watchers at every major airport within five hundred miles," Carol whispered in his ear. "We can't go to Munich."

Lokan cast a silence bubble around the two of them. "We go to Mongolia, and from there to Russia."

She patted her curls. "It has been a long time since I've spoken Russian."

The night market materialized around them, a cacophony of sights, smells, and humanity. Perfect for disappearing.

They paid the driver extra to wait, then melted into the crowd.

New clothing from one vendor, boots from another, backpacks and hair dye from yet two others.

The dye was for later, once they found lodging for the night.

When they returned, the elegant businessman and his designer-clad companion had vanished, replaced by backpackers in worn jeans and practical boots.

Carol shed a few tears over having to leave the designer wardrobe and the luxury matching luggage that would have to stay behind, but Lokan kissed away her tears and promised to replace every item.

"Ready for an adventure?" he asked, shouldering the hiking pack.

"Always." She shouldered hers. "I've always wanted to see the Mongolian steppes."

They walked back to the taxi hand in hand, two young-looking travelers in a city of millions. Behind them, their old life burned like bridges that they'd never cross again. Ahead lay adventure, and eventually home.

The driver looked surprised at their transformation but said nothing. Money bought silence as effectively as compulsion, but Lokan was going to use thralling and compulsion as well once the driver's services were no longer needed.