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The one tick of pause it takes to get back into gear is all it takes to get hit. Pain sears through my bicep into the front of my chest. It takes a deep, burning breath to ensure I’m good to hold out until we’re done.
“Fucking cunt!” The jolt of the car as I put pedal to gas has blood running down my arm. One glance down and I know I need to hurry this shit up as my white shirt begins to turn black in the dark.
“You good?” Casper steadies himself before I charge.
“Fuck yeah.”
By the time we’re speeding towards the oncoming vehicles, the pain is a constant heated throb. Casper’s already got one in range, and before they pull their first trigger, he takes the middle truck out. It swerves out of control without its driver, knocking into the SUVs on either side before falling back. Another shot sounds, the recoil palpable in the vibration of the air around us, and the 4x4 on the far-left barrels into the car that’s still finding its tread after the truck knocked it off course. We don’t even have to bother with the other three that are left because they’re all over the place. Still, Casper takes the one on the far right out before grabbing the handgun and finishing off the job as I press the brakes and spin, shrill liquid pain tensing every muscle in my body. We’re close enough that I feel the breeze of the last fucker as it snags on the nose of its mate and rolls over the top.
“Well, that was close.” I blow out a breath as my heart pumps faster and faster. My knuckles blanch as I hold on to the steering wheel tighter, steading it as the resistance builds with my speed. I try to ignore the way my shirt is sticking to my body, shallowing my breaths to dull the pain.
“Slow the fuck down. I need to reload.”
“I don’t need to slow. You need to hurry.”
“I don’t see you doing much of the work. You’re getting all the fun out of this shit,” Casper retorts in a loud grumble, but the grin on his face as he ignores the fact my shirt is more dark than white shows that he’s having the time of his fucking life. When he’s done reloading the rifle, he slaps the dashboard for me to go.
It’s not as easy this time around. The jostle of the car, along with the resistance of the steering wheel, makes it harder to react, but we manage to just about pull it off with the help of his sniper buddy in the helo. I don’t bother spinning around to head back to the Discovery. Instead, I reverse at top speed, coming to a stop in front of it. Leo and Lucian are working on the bulletproof windows, trying to crack them open. It seems pointless though, and they’ll kill Lucy before we can get her. The billows of smoke that are still coming from the blown engine make it impossible to see through the windscreen, and I know that the car will blow any minute now.
“We need to jack the door,” Christopher yells, eyes widening at the sight of me.
“I’m good. Superficial.”
Nodding, he throws a crowbar in my direction before he starts coughing. The cloud around us is turning darker, a sure sign that the electrics are burning. “Only way to get it open.”
“Get back in the car!” Lucian shouts at him as he folds over, coughing so hard that I’m sure he’s going to hack his lungs up. “He tried to put out the engine to buy us time. Fucking idiot!”
The helicopter lands on the field to the side of the road, making it hard to think with the loud racket from the blades and the sudden influx of hands around us. Not to mention the way my heart is still beating so hard that my blood is whooshing and whooshing in my ears.
“We’re on borrowed time here,” I tell Casper as he assumes his position over my shoulder, rifle at the ready.
“I have you covered,” he retorts, giving me the go-ahead to jack the door.
Neither Leo nor Lucian argue to take over. I won’t let them. I let her go. I sent her away. Now it’s down to me to fucking fix it and get her out in one piece.
I’m almost there—the metal is groaning with every single strain, and I’m pretty sure I have it when three muffled shots punctuate the flashes from inside.
Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck…
With one last effort, and Casper’s help when he readjusts and cranks the end of the crowbar with the sole of his foot, I manage to get the door open. Stupidly, I dive straight in, ready to pull Lucy out. Instead, she shuffles back on the seat. Blood is sprayed all over her, the leather, and the glass as she looks straight at me. Wide eyes flit to my arm, following down the side of my chest to the top of my trousers. I don’t know if she’s scared or angry. I don’t know what she is at all as she clutches the pistol in her hand tighter, holding it to her chest when I pull back to take better stock of her and the two men with her.
Motherfucker.
Kingsley Fairfax stares blankly up at me, mouth gaping as his hand plugs the wound on his neck for his blood only to dribble down his chin. The driver is gone. Lucy did good with that one. His brain is spattered over the windshield like tar as he slumps forward, his life dripping from the hole in his face.
Drip, drip, drip.
Not fucking now! I grit my teeth and grab the collar of the one man we know has the answers to everything. I want to kill him in more ways than I can think of. I want to torture him until his body gives out and then bring him back so we can go again. Over and over until he physically disintegrates in my hands.
Pulling him out of the car, I drop him on the ground with the keening throb of my arm.
“You need to get seen,” Christopher bites out when I kneel beside Kingsley and plug the hole in his neck with a finger. “You don’t get to die like this. Not this easily.”
“It really is you.” Lucian crouches opposite me, watching his father gurgle desperately.
The panic that’s setting into his eyes isn’t enough. The fear of what’s coming isn’t sufficient to make up for everything he’s done.
“Do not take your finger out,” Lucian orders, looking behind him for help. “We need him alive.”
