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Then, I can begin enacting my revenge.
And Anatoly will pay dearly for putting Valerie and me through this.
37
Valerie
The shattering of glass is followed by a violent lurch to the side as the vehicle is pushed off the road by the impact of another car. Luis screams as we begin to roll, the car becoming a spinning death trap as we’re tossed around like clothes in a dryer.
I roll up in a ball until we come to a stop, my heart slamming so hard in my chest that it feels like it might explode. My eyes are squeezed shut to prevent the glass from getting in them, but once I smell smoke, I open them, looking around to assess the damage.
Luis is hanging upside down in his seat, unconscious. We’re upside down, and the car is beginning to fill with smoke from the engine. Any moment, we could catch on fire, and being locked inside of a police car isn’t the ideal scenario for a quick escape.
Okay, stay calm. There’s got to be a way out.
“Luis!” I yell, crawling up to the metal grate and poking my fingers through it. “Luis, wake up!”
He doesn’t move, and I fear he might not even be alive. The impact was hard, and his side of the car is significantly crumpled in, especially around the lower half of his body.
“Fuck,” I mutter, letting go of the grate and looking around for another way out. The smoke is beginning to seep into the cabin quicker, and the air is hazy. If I don’t find a way out soon, I’m going to die in here.
The window is broken, but there’s another metal grate over it, preventing me from crawling out. I grab onto it, attempting to pull it into the car, but it won’t budge. I resort to kicking it, but all that does is send shockwaves of pain through my legs.
There’s no way out.
I’m about to start screaming when I see a pair of boots beside the car. Someone has come to help!
“I’m in here! Help me!” I yell, trying to look through the window and see who’s standing outside.
Another pair of boots appear, and then two more.
Blood pumps into my ears, making it hard to hear, but I can still make out the thick Russian accent of a man speaking outside the wrecked car. “Get her out of the car. I’ll take care of the driver.”
His voice sends a chill through my entire body. I’m drenched in sweat, but suddenly, I’m shivering. These aren’t Pasha’s men. I know it because we’re not on the north side of the city anymore.
We’re on the south side.
Anatoly’s side.
And these are Anatoly’s men.
There’s a dull metallic thud against the car, then a much sharper sound. The round edge of a table saw slices through the side door, sending sparks flying into my face. I scramble away from it, but I know I’m trapped. There’s no way out but the hole they’re cutting in the car.
I pray that these are actually Pasha’s men, but I know in my heart that they aren’t.
As the door falls away from the overturned car, my fears are confirmed. A bald man leans down, looking inside and grinning when he sees me. “Hello pretty kitty, come on out.”
“Get away from me!” I shriek, kicking my feet at him as he tries to reach inside.
He grabs one of my ankles, pulling me hard. “Don’t struggle, baby girl.”
I slide out of the car on my back, still struggling but feeling the energy drain from my body with every passing second. I can’t keep this up, nor should I with the baby that’s growing inside of me.
Stress and exertion can be deadly.
There are dozens of men outside the car, and even more vehicles surrounding the scene of the crash. This was planned, and Luis is just as much of a victim as I am now. I almost want to feel sorry for him, but the Bratva in me has no empathy for enemies.
Pasha would be proud.
