The moment the federal SUV stopped moving, Julian didn't quietly slip out—he launched himself into the pouring rain, tumbling across the airport tarmac until he smashed into a pile of empty luggage crates. "Julian!" I screamed, the force throwing me against the leather partition as the car swerved hard, trying not to hit him. I grabbed for balance—one arm hugging Leo’s sleeping body to my chest, the other clawing at the front seat. The SUV skidded and finally stopped, barely inches from the fence. Through the rear window, I watched Julian get up, drenched and wild, and run straight into the darkness of Hangar Three. "Let him run, Sierra," Christian said from beside me, his voice calm and terrifying—so steady it made my skin crawl. He didn’t chase after Julian. He didn’t even bother to watch him go. He just shifted his giant frame across the seat and slammed the door, shutting out the storm. In seconds, we sat in suffocating silence, the air thick with leather and that faint, metal
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