Then his head snapped forward. Blood sprayed across the windshield from the inside, arterial red against cracked glass.
“Fuck!”
I lunged forward, grabbing the wheel as Marcus slumped sideways. Dead. Gone. No time to check. No time to mourn.
I held the wheel one-handed, reaching down with the other to shove his foot off the gas pedal so I could control our speed. The car swerved wildly. I was half-standing, half-wedged between seats, steering blind through a windshield painted red.
Behind us, tires squealed. They were following. Of course they were following.
The alley ended in a T-junction. Left or right. Split-second decision. I chose left, cranking the wheel. The car skidded on the blown tire, back end swinging out, slamming into a dumpster hard enough to crumple metal.
We stopped. Engine died. Sudden silence except for rain and my own breathing and the ringing in my ears.
I pulled my weapon from my shoulder holster, checked the magazine by touch. Full. Fifteen rounds. Good.
“Sebastian, are you hit?”
“No!” His voice came from the floor. Steady. Controlled. No panic. “I'm fine!”
“There is spare magazine in my left jacket pocket. Take it. And take Marcus's sidearm from his holster. Do not hesitate if you need to use it. Anyone who is not me or marked law enforcement, you put them down. Understand?”
“Understood.”
I kicked my door open and rolled out, weapon up, scanning. The alley was empty for now. Trash. Puddles. Fire escapes climbing brick walls on both sides like iron skeletons.
Footsteps echoed from where we'd come. Multiple sets. Moving fast. Boots on wet pavement. Military cadence.
I moved to the rear door, yanked it open. “Out. Now. Stay behind me and do exactly what I say when I say it.”
Sebastian emerged, Marcus's Glock in his hand, eyes hard andfocused. No fear there. Like he'd flipped a switch and become someone else.
Good. Fear got you killed.
The first attacker rounded the corner fifteen meters out. Masked. Black tactical gear. Armed with a submachine gun. Professional loadout.
I put two rounds in his chest before he could raise the weapon. Center mass. He went down hard, weapon clattering across wet pavement.
Two more behind him. I dropped into cover behind the car, returning fire. Bullets sparked off metal. More glass shattered. One of them took a round through his thigh and went down screaming. The other retreated back around the corner.
“How many do you count?” Sebastian asked, crouched beside me.
“At least six that I have seen. Probably more in reserve. This is coordinated assault. Multiple teams. Someone planned this carefully.”
“Fantastic.”
Something small and black bounced into the alley. Metallic clink. Rolling toward us across wet pavement.
Grenade.
“Move! Now!”
I grabbed Sebastian by his jacket and ran. Five steps. Ten. My legs pumped, lungs burning, pulling him with me as fast as we could go.
The explosion lifted us off our feet. Heat and pressure and sound that felt like the world ending. We flew forward into the intersection, hitting pavement hard. I twisted mid-air, taking the impact on my back, Sebastian on top of me, my body between him and the blast.
Pain exploded through my shoulder. Hot. Sharp. Shrapnel, probably. Something tore through flesh. Didn't matter. Not yet.
Ears ringing. Vision swimming. Tasted copper and smoke. The world sounded like I was underwater.
