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I duck and brace my head between my knees.
Then I hit the gas.
Bullets ping the bulletproof windshield.
Thump, thump. The car shakes as two bodies bounce off the hood. I squeeze my eyes shut and slam the pedal to the floorboards.
Metal screams.
Glass shatters.
The force throws me forward, then back. The seatbelt wrenches my waist, and I gag, cramping in agony.
Gun.
I need the gun.
My fingers quake, scraping the floorboards, but when they bump metal, I can’t close them.
Shock?
Shit.
Everything’s woozy and blurry.
“Bad omega,” a deadly voice hisses through the shattered car window. I catch his coffee scent, bitter with rage.
He grabs me by the back of the neck, wrenching me upright. My vision spins, but it’s hard to miss the blood flowing from the cut on his bald head.
“Dominik will fucking destroy you.” His dark eyes glow with a malice so toxic my blood clots in my veins. “Then I’ll have my turn to make you bleed.”
Braced between my knees, my fingers tighten.
They squeeze around metal.
Gun.
Holy shit, I picked it up!
The man yanks me by the hair, baring my neck, forcing me to submit. He swallows, focused on my pulse, nostrils flaring, hypnotized by my scent.
My lips curl into a snarl.
Not today, motherfucker.
I pull the trigger.
***
Thirty-Seven
LILAH
It takes a while to get my shit together. Or maybe it’s not long at all. I can’t tell.
When my knees stop shaking enough to hold my weight, I step over the latest man I murdered. The other car’s side is totally smashed.
Bodies on the pavement. Glass and blood everywhere.
