Anna's POV:

The treeline on both sides of the road erupts before I understand what's happening.

Bodies — masked, moving with the coordinated certainty of a rehearsed strike — burst from the brush and cut off the path ahead. I count six before I stop counting.

Alexander goes still.

His hands close around my arms and he sets me down. The movement is deliberate, not hurried — not panic, just a man repositioning the only thing that ...