Page 117 of Trapped Truth

“Get ready.” I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. “I’m gonna mount the kerb to get us out of here!”

Swerving past another lopsided car almost flings us straight into a collision. Our rear bumper screeches when metal scrapes together, but it’s the least of our concerns. Every tendon in my neck stretched taut as a piano wire, I’m able to point us towards the kerbside before powering onto the pavement relatively unharmed.

Warner braces himself against the door. “Look out.”

“Shit!”

It’s too late to avoid colliding with several bistro tables outside local cocktail bars, sending chairs and umbrellas spiralling. Thank God there are no customers left to dodge our steel beast ploughing through them.

As I make a hard right turn to avoid spearing a lamppost, the roar of another engine cuts through the successive quakes still exploding in our wake. I glance into the mirror to find the shadow of a car racing to catch up, fleeing the onslaught.

“We have company,” I announce.

“Where?” Blaine contorts to get a better look.

“Right on our ass.”

“We’ve cleared a path.” As Axel speaks, Ember lifts her head. “Perhaps they’re following us.”

From this position, the scene behind closely resembles an emerging apocalypse. Noxious clouds of black smoke belch from the growing inferno, coating the damaged skyscraper in a halo of flames. I can’t even see the destruction. Not through the ash plummeting in slate-grey hail stones.

Clutching Axel’s hand, Ember rotates to get a better look. “Oh my God. The penthouse…”

“It’s gone.” Warner shakes his head.

“How is this possible?”

“Never mind that.” I hiss at a hard impact with more abandoned chairs. “Our friends are gaining on us! They aren’t just following!”

Straight ahead, traffic has grown to a total standstill while pandemonium ensues on the streets. Bystanders flee at every angle, and horrified drivers escape their cars to run on foot, creating a complete lockdown.

I’ve no choice but to screech to a stop before we cause a head-on collision. Every escape route is blocked. My heartbeat is slamming so loudly in my ears, I almost can’t hear the squeal of tyres behind us, but it’s clear our company has done the same.

“How many weapons do we have?” I rush to detach my seatbelt.

“Enough.” Warner passes guns between the seats. “Prepare for an attack.”

Fuck this, I’m not letting my family sit here like lambs to slaughter. Checking the chamber on my semi-automatic, I roll my shoulders back then pop open the door, ready to fling myself into the fight before our enemies have the chance to fire first.

After years of combat side-by-side, Warner can read my mind without uttering a damn word. He follows suit, positioning his good leg first, then we launch from the car as a simultaneous duo to run full pelt.

The barrel of my gun trains on the blacked-out SUV practically kissing our rear. When there’s no movement inside, I almost doubt myself. Then the window screen cracks and fragments into a million lethal pieces, giving my fighting instincts the perfect excuse to activate.

“Incoming fire!”

Bullets eject through the opening created by the destroyed window, narrowly clipping our car. I pop off two rapid shots then duck to use the wheel arch for some meagre coverage.

“Blaine!” I shout as loudly as my lungs will allow. “Take out the back window then advance!”

“Cover me!” he bellows back.

From this vantage point, I’m able to pop off another round towards our attackers. One moves in a blur to exit their vehicle, following a similar trajectory before returning fire in my direction. The bullet ricochets off the front bumper, eliciting several sparks.

“Do it now!” I holler, panic threatening to strangle my vocal cords.

All around us, terrified onlookers continue to flee, screams flying up at the cacophony of gunfire. I allow myself a split-second celebration when one attacker yelps and hits the ground, clutching their shattered kneecap.

Above me, the SUV’s back window finally gives way to an abuse of bullets. There’s a flash where Blaine aims out of the porthole created, hitting the figure cowering on the ground a second time so they stop moving.