Page 23 of The Last Strike

In a matter of seconds, the tables turned and three men rushed forward, picking up Reed and carrying him out. The rest circled around James and the woman, shielding them.

More guards ran at them, but a grenade finished them off.

“Go! Go! Go!”James commanded as they sprinted forward, but he wasn’t done yet. As they neared the tower, James threw another four grenades over his shoulder.

A smile turned up the corner of Asher’s lips.

Burn it down.

More Adani soldiers came at them, but they were unprepared and didn’t stand long. When James jumped down outside of the castle wall and into a speeding van that swerved in to pick them up, he tipped his head back, exhaling in relief.

Asher knew they weren’t safe until they were in the plane and back in Santinian air space, but he’d been genuinely worried they wouldn’t get out of the palace in the first place. Now his faith flickered like a bright light in the dark.

I’m going to teach the world what happens with you mess with Santina.

Abi’s father had said he needed to make international contacts, to gain power on the international stage. Asher didn’t think this was what William had had in mind, but Asher knew that sometimes Plan B was the best plan of all.

The ride from the palace to the private airport seemed to take forever, but eventually they made it. As they stepped out of the vans and the jet stairs unfolded, Asher half expected King Khalil to step out with an arrogant grin on his face.

But no one greeted them.

Two men ran forward, their weapons raised. They slowed as they neared the top of the steps, peered inside, then disappeared. Asher watched them move through the plane, scoping it and running scanners over it, looking for bombs.

“Ready for boarding,” one man said so casually Asher almost laughed. He could’ve made a good flight attendant in another life.

Within seconds they were in their seats. James commanded take off and once again Asher couldn’t breathe. He had a mental image of the plane bursting into flames shortly after it took off—King Khalil’s parting gift.

But when the wheels lifted off the ground, evidenced by Samuel’s flight graphics, Asher allowed himself to feel a sliver of victory.

Asher’s eyes stayed peeled to the radar, but no one followed them—almost certainly because Thomas Security had disabled all the planes at the airport, or maybe because King Khalil was still recovering from the attack at his palace.

Or maybe because Khalil was letting them get away for another reason.

Asher didn’t know and he found himself questioning every decision he was making. King Khalil played dirty, he always had. Could Asher win without doing the same? He’d already changed in the time he’d become king, but he didn’t want to lose himself completely.

Asher watched as James checked the men for injuries and sutured a few wounds on the plane. Eventually, he sat in the chair opposite the woman—but not before he appeared to scan her for wires.

“What is your name?” James asked.

The woman looked like she might not answer, but then she did. “I want to speak to King Asher,” she said.

Asher’s eyebrows lifted.

“Lots of people want to speak to the King of Santina,” James said matter-of-factly without mocking her. “You need a good reason to speak to the king.”

“I want to speak to King Asher,” she repeated.

“Tell me your name first,” James said.

She looked to him, like she was sizing him up.

Why was she hesitating?

What had she done to end up in the cell?

She looked away.

“You’re doing this the hard way,” James said as he stood.

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