The cab starts moving, pulling away from the curb.
The city lights blur outside, the sound of the engine humming under me, and I allow myself a brief, shallow breath. I close my eyes, trying to force myself to relax.
But it’s not that easy.
My palms are sweating, my chest heaving with each breath. I can’t stop thinking about the men who were just in the bathroom, tearing the place apart. I can still hear the echo of the door slamming open, the rush of footsteps inside. I can’t get their faces out of my head.
Lukin’s men were close. Too close.
“Better make sure our paths don’t cross next time. If I see you again, I won’t let you go.”
I shudder.
My heart skips, the fear creeping back in as I sit there, rigid, every part of me still on high alert. It’s all too much. Too fast. The pregnancy. The running. The hiding.
The thought of him.
Lukin.
What will he do when he finds me again? How far would he go to make sure I’m not slipping away from him? The thought twists in my stomach. I don’t know the answer, but I don’t have the strength to face it.
I glance at the rearview mirror, watching the reflection of the city pass by. The lights fade into the distance, but the reality of what’s happened, what’s still hanging over me, doesn’t go away.
I may have escaped for now, but I know it’s only a matter of time before the storm catches up with me. I have to do something. If it means moving cities, I’m willing to go that far. I’ve seen Lukin’s desperation to get me, and I’m not going to let that happen.
As the fear and anxiety slowly ebb, I realize that something feels off.
The cab is moving smoothly through the streets, but the driver is too quiet. Too still. His eyes remain fixed on the road, never darting to the rearview mirror, never acknowledging me. I try to shake off the creeping suspicion that’s gnawing at the back of my mind, but it’s there, growing stronger with every block we pass.
I snap my head toward the window and that’s when I notice the streets, the landmarks, nothing feels familiar. The buildings look different, the streets strange. The turns are all wrong.
We’re not heading toward my apartment.
Fear. Hot. In my blood.
The realization hits me like a wave of ice-cold water. Panic claws at my throat, tight and suffocating.
“You missed the turn,” I say, my voice steady, but my heart is racing. I force myself to stay calm, to keep it together.
But there’s no reply.
I lean forward, my hands gripping the seat in front of me. “You’re going the wrong way,” I say again, my voice sharp, but still no response. The driver doesn’t even flinch.
I swallow hard, the weight of the situation sinking in. My mind races, every warning flag going up at once. And then it clicks—this man works for Lukin.
Maybe it’s the suit. Maybe it’s the way he’s driving, the silence in the car. I don’t know, but something about him screams Lukin—like a shadow, waiting to close in.
My breath catches in my throat. I can feel the cold sweat breaking out across my skin.
“Stop the car!” I command, panic rising. “Where are you taking me?”
Still, there’s no response.
My heart pounds in my chest, and the silence between us grows unbearable. I know now. I’m not going home. My fear and anxiety turn into red hot anger, and I don’t think. I act.
Without a second thought, I reach over, my hand shaking as I grab the wheel from the driver’s hands. I jerk it hard to the left, the movement too fast, too desperate. The car swerves violently, the tires screeching against the asphalt in a high-pitched, ear-splitting scream. The world spins around me, the screeching of metal and rubber deafening in my ears as I struggle to control the wheel, but it’s too much.
The car crashes into something—a barrier, a guardrail, I’m not sure—and the impact is brutal. The force throws me against the seat belt, my body snapping back with a sickening crunch. The world goes white for a moment, the sound of the crash still ringing in my ears like a thunderclap.
