"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.
