Ava's POV
Leo had her door open before the car stopped rocking.
"Move," he said. Not loud. Not panicked. The same voice he used for everything, level and certain, and somehow that steadiness was the thing that got her legs working.
She moved.
The cold hit her the moment she was out. Sharp and immediate. Her ribs screamed where the seatbelt had caught her, and she pressed one hand against her side and kept going because stopping was not an option; her body was being given.
Dominic was out. Price was out. Behind them, the SUV doors were open, and she could hear boots on pavement, fast and deliberate, the sound of men who did this for a living and were not winded and were not hurt and were gaining.
"This way," Leo said.
He took her hand.
She registered it the way you registered things in a crisis, factually, without time to assign meaning. His hand around hers. Warm and certain and not letting go. They ran.
The market appeared without warning.
