Page 53 of Sweet Betrayal

The traffic got progressively heavier, then ground to a halt altogether. Craning her neck, Hannah spotted two army vehicles parked across the road at an angle.

Her blood ran cold.

Not another roadblock? The second in as many days.

Except this time, there was no contingency plan. No family to flag down. No truckload of rebels to provide a distraction.

Oh, wait. They were the distraction!

Heart racing, she twisted in her seat, trying to get Tom’s attention. He didn’t see her or didn’t want to. His eyes were locked on the roadblock ahead.

She considered jumping out now and making a run for it. Had everyone lost their minds?

“Trust me,” he’d said.

She broke into a hot sweat and glanced over at the driver.

He was perspiring too, his whole body tense. He glanced at his wristwatch. As the line of vehicles crawled forward, he eased his foot onto the gas and moved with them. Closer to the checkpoint. Closer to certain death.

Desperation surged through her. No. She was not going to die as a fugitive in Syman. If Tom wasn’t going to help her, she would help herself.

She reached for the door handle.

As she touched it, the driver leaned over and clamped a hand around her wrist.

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head. His grip was strong, his message unmistakable. She wasn’t getting out.

“But the roadblock—” Her voice came out a choked whisper.

“Wait.” The driver released her and nodded toward the vehicles ahead. He checked his watch again.

That’s when she realized something major was about to happen. Goddammit, why hadn’t Tom warned her?

Then she got it. He must have known she wouldn’t agree. This plan wasn’t just reckless, it was downright insane.

The driver gripped the wheel, knuckles white, engine revving. His expression was set. He was preparing to punch through the checkpoint.

It was suicide.

A knock tapped against the back window. She looked up.

Tom’s blue eyes locked onto hers. He made a quick motion across his chest.

Put on your seatbelt.

Oh God.

He must have seen the fear in her eyes, because he gave her a confident nod and a thumbs up.

Thumbs up? Was he serious?

Her hands shook so badly she could barely pull the seatbelt across her body, but after a few tries, she managed to clip it into place.

In the back, the men were tense. There was no talking now, and all eyes were forward. Every one of them clung to the truck’s slatted metal sides, knees bent, ready for the hit.

Hannah shut her eyes. Please let them make it.

A deafening blast shattered the stillness, making her gasp. She glanced ahead as an orange fireball shot into the air.

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