“They’re following us.” A sound rang out, like rapid rain pinging a metal roof, and Jin swerved. Flick ducked. Goodness, gunshots. She knew guns were meant to be triggered, but she’d never heard one, much less been the target of one. “Now they’re firing at us!” She could die here, and then her mother would finally know Flick wasn’t in a cell. “Really, love. You ought to be a fortune teller,” Jin said, hurtling over another wall and into someone else’s garden.
