Page 159 of Deceived Wrath

But the car is quick to follow as another bullet hits my door.

My breath comes in fast and sharp as a thought hits me so hard it nearly has me losing control of the wheel.

If they kill me, they will go after Scout next.

“Not fucking happening,” I growl.

I reach across to the glove box and pull out my gun.

Another shot fires at my passenger side as whoever is tailing me tries their best to cut me off. But I know this city like the back of my hand.

I swerve down a side street and cut in front of them before rolling down the window and firing twice without hesitation.

The first bullet hits the windshield and takes out the man in the passenger seat.

The driver panics and swerves out of sight as I quickly disappear down another side street. But it doesn’t take long for them to catch up to me.

I slam the brakes just enough to throw them off.

The car overshoots and momentarily pulls up along my passenger side.

That’s all the opening I need.

I fire through the shattered window and lodge a bullet right into the driver’s neck.

The car veers off the road and collides with the side of a parked truck, setting off both of the alarms.

I don’t let myself feel any relief.

I skid to a stop and climb out of the car, sprinting over to the wreck.

Both men are slumped forwards, their eyes open and unseeing, as blood pours from their wounds.

Nausea claws up my throat as I lean in, trying to see past all the blood, but neither man looks familiar.

Sirens start to sound in the distance, so I quickly search the car as well as the men.

I take everything I can carry—a couple of phones, a laptop bag, a loaded Glock, and a handful of loose documents. Anything that could help me identify these men.

Though I have a horrible feeling I already know who they’re working for.

Adrian Smirvov.

A deliberate attack like this means these men have been tracking my movements, and what’s even more terrifying is that I have no idea if they were alone.

If there are others and they’re watching me right now…

Just the thought of going back to the penthouse where Scout is has me bending over and emptying the contents of my stomach.

I can’t risk my son, or Fiona, for that matter.

Wiping my mouth on the back of my hand, I head back to the car and dump all of the tech and paperwork into the trunk before getting behind the wheel.

I have no idea where to go from here, but I don’t have time to think, so I just drive.

The city blurs around me.

I barely notice the lights I’m running or the near misses that send brakes screeching behind me. My mind is too loud.