The bulletproof glass holds tight for now, but that doesn’t mean it’ll hold forever.
Swerving, I watch as one of the vehicles pulls up to my left side while I fight to keep control, able to see the flashes coming from their pistols.
I don’t even need to take a guess. I already know it’s them.
The Grimaldis.
Cursing under my breath, I try to focus on driving, looking for some way to evade them. Then, Vito’s words register in the back of my mind, and I already know they were waiting for me to leave. They had likely already closed in to collect Elena and had likely seen me go with her.
Obviously, they’re not prepared to let this go.
“Stay down until I say it’s clear,” I bark at her, heart raging against my ribs.
Engaging in a car chase on my own is one thing, but doing so with her in the back is another story. One that I don’t want to end poorly.
A bullet sinks into one of the rear panels, making my grip on the wheel tighten as I push the car harder down the highway.
Fuck.
I pulled her out of that warehouse to keep her safe, not to potentially get her killed in a gunfight.
Reaching for my gun, I click the safety off and roll the window down, firing blindly at the car to my left, watching as it swerves away momentarily. At the same time, I hit the gas, hearing the engine almost seem to growl, but not in protest.
Elena stays deathly quiet in the back, and while it makes me nervous not to hear anything from her, I use the opportunity to try and focus on the task at hand.
“I’ve got you,” I tell her as I reload as fast as I can with one hand, balancing it against the wheel before returning more shots. “Just stay down and breathe.”
I don’t know why the words come out like a promise rather than instructions, but they do.
The road ahead curves sharply, and I take it fast, forcing my tires to skid just as another bullet shatters the side mirror.
They’re good…coordinated. I’ll give them that.
But I know this isn’t just a scare tactic like they usually try to pull. They want her, and they’ll do whatever it takes to get her.
That thought stitches its way into my mind, lingering as I land a few good shots to the hood of the one on my left. Obviously hitting something important, smoke curls out of its creases a moment later as the car fishtails into the ditch.
The second one doesn’t slow, but there’s enough of a lag for me to pull in a breath and steel myself.
“Wyatt—”
I risk a glance as my name is pulled from her throat, almost sounding like a foreign thing, and I hate the way this picture makes my heart clench. She’s crouched down low, eyes wide and hands trembling against her head. As she shifts, I see the gleam of red on her cheek. It’s nothing alarming, but it’s obviously a shallow cut from flying glass.
It’s enough to make that rage surge inside me, hot and impossible to avoid.
“Hold on,” I murmur, jerking the wheel as I veer off onto a side road leading back to an industrial access lane. The car follows, relentless, as expected.
Pushing down as hard as I can, gaining momentum for both of us, I slam the brakes just enough for them to close the distance, then whip sideways to spin us into a controlled skid.
Before they can correct themselves, I’m firing through their windshield, and the impact is brutal.
Their car clips mine, grinding metal on metal before slamming sideways into a concrete barrier. The sound is both deafening and crushing. Final, even.
As my car idles, silence follows, but it’s far from peaceful. It’s just empty.
Then, I keep going, pulling away at a normal speed.
I don’t stop driving until we’re closer to the main strip, and even then, I weave through various streets and dark corners. After what feels like forever, my pulse starts to slow, and I eventually ease off the gas, pulling into an empty parking lot out of sight.
