JANAYAH

"Japan."

The word hung in the bright morning air, heavy and poisonous.

Before my mind could even grapple with what Jackie had just said—the blood, the screaming, the impossibility of it—Mace moved.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t explain. He just grabbed me.

His arm hooked around my waist, hauling me off my feet and practically throwing me into the backseat of the waiting car. He dove in right behind me, slamming the door so hard the entire vehicle shuddered. Cassandra was already in the front seat, snapping orders at the driver before the engine even fully turned over.

"Go. Airstrip. Now." Mace growled, leaning forward between the seats.

We...