God! Thank you for wearing it.
Her voice cracks through the earpiece at the same time the tracker pings, small and raw.
“Anton—”Breath. Panic threaded in it.“He-he’s going fast. I can’t—”
ETA: two minutes… one.
The freight yard sprawls out ahead; rows of stacked containers, cranes frozen mid-lift, floodlights washing everything in cold white. Diesel in the air, dust and metal under my tires.
The black SUV cuts through the yard, taillights blinking red across steel walls.
I don’t waste a second.
Gun comes up through the open window, one hand on the wheel, the other steady.
“Hold on tight,” I snap into the comm.
No reply. Just her breathing—ragged, terrified.
That’s enough.
I line the shot. One squeeze.
First round glances off the frame—sparks. Second one hits true. The rear tire bursts with a pop that echoes through the metal maze.
The SUV fishtails, skids sideways, slams into a container, flips once, twice—metal screaming, glass raining down like shrapnel.
Then silence.
I kill the engine before it even stops rolling and hit the ground running.
Gun up.
The air reeks of diesel, smoke, blood.
The flipped SUV steams in the floodlight haze, front end crumpled, one wheel still spinning.
“Mary!” I shout, voice cutting through the heat.
Nothing.
Then—a cough. Small, hoarse, alive.
I move.
Smoke rolls low, thick enough to choke on.
I move fast, stepping over shattered glass and twisted steel. The SUV’s on its side, hood steaming, one door hanging by a hinge.The driver’s head is half through the windshield—dead before the airbag finished deploying.
Then I see movements.
Timofey. Crawling out through the passenger window, dragging Mary by the arm like she’s luggage. Her dress is torn—blood streaking down her thigh, heels gone. She’s clutching her stomach, breath coming fast and shallow.
“Let her go,” I snarl.
He laughs, rough and ugly, eyes catching the flicker of firelight.
“You, risking everything for a woman?” He spits to the side, blood mixing with it. “The Reaper grows soft.” He yanks her upright, forcing her against the crumpled door. “I knew it was you,” he sneers. “The ghost sniffing around my accounts. The one cleaning up after my messes. You’ve been protecting her for weeks.”
