She flashes me a smile that makes my aching heart skip a beat. “Thanks.”
The word is barely out of her mouth when the screech of metal against metal and spinning tires rises from the alley. A moment later, the van we were tossed out of earlier comes steaming into the parking lot with paint from Faina’s stolen car scraped all along one side. The vehicle’s barely stopped moving when the side door opens and several of the guards spill out with their guns aimed at us.
“Drop the gun, Faina,” Richard barks as he climbs down from the van. “You’re all under arrest!”
24
FAINA
The man we picked up just wasn’t good enough for Richard and a few days later, Cian and I are shipped off to another facility with Richard’s barrage ringing in our ears.
He wanted more than just one man linked to Hawk. Despite all his previous promises about how Hawk was the only important thing at the auction, Richard’s visible and vocal disappointment that we only came back with one man revealed his true intentions.
“All he cared about was the weapons,” Cian mutters, twisting his wrists in the cuffs attached to a chain that locks against the floor to prevent escape. “He didn’t care about Hawk. He just wanted a gigantic weapons bust to make his report look amazing.”
“I hate that you’re right,” I murmur, keeping my attention locked on the van’s blacked-out windows while watching Cian in the reflection. “I suppose an elusive international Mafia means very little in comparison to heavy weapons being shipped all around the world.”
“Did you see his face when he realized the auction was over?” Cian scoffs to himself. “What a dick.”
“Literally.”
Cian’s lips part as if he’s got more to say, but something makes him change his mind and he slumps back in his seat, his brow furrowed. Traveling to another facility is not part of the plan. Helping Richard was supposed to get us out of this situation, not put us in a worse one. Now, no deal they offer will be good enough and Cian will likely be taken from me forever.
I need help but we’re very much alone. Two drops in a fucking ocean.
“What happened with your deal?” There’s an inflection in Cian’s voice holding the real question he can’t ask. He’s seeking to see if my freedom is secured and he’s about to spend the rest of his life alone in a cell that will likely kill him from the trauma it triggers.
“Well, Richard said that?—”
I’m flung forward so violently that the metal cuffs around my wrists slice right down to the bone as my entire body is launched off the seat and thrown upward. Pain pulls sharply through my shoulders as the restraints prevent me from hitting the roof of the van. The air fills with the screeching sound of metal scraping against metal and yells rise from the front of the van as we crash headlong into something. I’m thrown back down onto the floor of the van, landing with a heavy thump that forces all the air out of my lungs. My head snaps back against the metal and stars burst across my vision. I glimpse Cian as he lands prone on the bench he’s tied to, a yell of alarm escaping him, and then everything goes black.
I wake mere seconds later to the yell of two horns blaring constantly. It's deafening. We must have crashed.
Groaning, I sit up and press one hand to my forehead which alerts me to the lack of restriction around my wrist. Blinking through a throbbing headache, I spot the metal cuffs dangling above me from the chain. The hinge was poorly made and snapped during the crash.
Wait… above me?
I blink slowly and it clicks. The van is upside down. It must have rolled when I passed out. Blood runs in warm rivulets down my forearm and my head pulses in time to my heartbeat, but all of it pales in comparison to Cian, who stands in front of me, wrestling with the cuffs still keeping him prisoner.
“Shit, Cian! Are you alright?”
“Faina!” He glances at me and barely conceals the relief in his eyes. “I thought you were out.”
“Only a quick nap,” I reply as I scramble upward and grasp his cuffs. “Here, let me.” Knowing how weak they are, it doesn’t take long for our combined weight to twist and snap the cuffs free. Unfortunately, only one opens and while we snap the manacles from the chain, Cian keeps one cuff around one wrist as he stumbles away from me.
“We have to get out of here,” he gasps, doubling over while holding his stomach. “Fuck me.”
“What’s wrong?”
He waves me off with a grunt and there’s no time for me to coddle him.
I glance around and one of the broken windows catches my eye. A spiderweb of cracks spreads from the bottom (top?) left corner and after a few solid kicks from me, it cracks fully and shatters across the tarmac we’re lying on.
“Come on!” I motion for Cian to follow and together, we scramble out of the van and into the quiet street. This early in the morning, there’s no one around. We’re down near a river and the wheels on the van are still slowly spinning, clinging to whatever momentum they have left. In front of the van is a large delivery truck with its front smashed in and blood splattered all over the windscreen. One of us was going too fast down the hill, and we collided with the force of the crash and the incline, causing the van to roll over, while the truck hit the railing lining the river and came to rest.
“Shit,” I gasp as sharp, burning pain flares up in my wrist. “We have to get out of here.”
Together, Cian and I sprint away from the wreckage and we don’t stop until we’re deep enough in the city that we can’t hear the blaring horns or see the columns of smoke rising from the crash site. By the time we stop on the outskirts of a park, the bleeding from my wrist has grown sluggish.
