Chapter 4 - Fire on the Overpass
“Get down!” I roared, lunging across the aisle and pulling Maya and Emma onto the armored floorboards of the van just as a hail of high-velocity rifle rounds shredded the side paneling.
Clang! Clang! Clang-clang-clang!
The sound of lead slamming into ballistic steel was deafening, like a blacksmith hammering on an anvil inches from our ears. Glass shattered from the front windshield as the driver’s compartment took direct fire.
“Driver’s hit!” a tactical guard shouted from the front. “Taking the wheel!”
The van surged forward with brutal acceleration, ramming the rear bumper of the vehicle blocking our path and sending it spinning across two lanes of wet highway. But as one SUV spun out, two more materialized from the shadows of the exit ramp, their high-beam headlights blinding our cameras.
“Boss, we’re outgunned!” Marcus yelled over the roar of gunfire. “They’ve got military-grade armor-piercing rounds! They’re trying to disable the transmission!”
I pulled my custom Sig Sauer P226 from my shoulder holster, checked the magazine, and racked the slide with a sharp, metallic click. I looked down at Maya, who was shielding Emma’s head with her own body, her face white as chalk, her lips moving in silent prayer.
“Stay down,” I ordered, my voice terrifyingly calm.
I hit the control panel on the bulkhead, sliding open the armored partition separating the cabin from the rear cargo bay.
“Marcus, prep the smoke screen and blow the rear tires of the trailing vehicle as soon as I give the mark!”
“Boss, you can't expose yourself—!”
“Do it!”
I kicked open the heavy rear doors of the van as we barreled down the highway at eighty miles per hour. The roaring wind whipped my coat back, stinging my eyes with cold rain and exhaust fumes. Behind us, a matte-black SUV was tailing us by barely twenty feet, its passenger-side window rolled down, a masked gunman aiming a suppressed assault rifle straight at our rear doors.
I didn't hesitate.
I raised my Sig Sauer, braced my stance against the swaying floor of the moving van, and squeezed the trigger three times.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Through the driving rain, my second round found its mark, shattering the SUV’s front tire and sending a shower of orange sparks cascading across the asphalt. The driver lost control, veering hard into the concrete retaining wall with a sickening crunch of twisted metal and shattered glass.
“Smoke out!” Marcus roared.
A thick cloud of military-grade white phosphorus smoke erupted from our rear dispensers, blinding the remaining pursuers and completely masking our escape route. The driver threw the van into a sharp, fishtailing turn, diving off the highway into the maze of industrial warehouses lining the riverfront.
Within five minutes, the pursuit had vanished, swallowed up by the sprawling concrete labyrinth of the outer boroughs.
We had broken the net. But we couldn't go to the Westchester estate anymore. If they had tracked our facial recognition once, they knew where my properties were.
We needed a ghost location.
“Take us to the old dry docks,” I ordered, sliding back into the cabin and locking the rear doors. “The underground bunker beneath Pier 49.”
Maya was sitting on the bench seat, shaking so violently she could barely hold a cup of water Marcus had handed her. Emma was still clinging to her, wide-eyed and silent, too shocked to cry.
I sat down beside Maya, reaching out to steady her hand. The skin of her wrist was ice-cold.
“You’re bleeding,” I said, noticing a dark stain spreading across the sleeve of her sweater.
Maya looked down, blinking as if she hadn't even noticed the graze. “It’s just glass... a stray shard from the side window.”
Without a word, I pulled a sterile field dressing from the tactical first-aid kit on the bulkhead, gently pushed her sleeve up past her elbow, and began wrapping the wound. As the fabric cleared her arm, the second wolf tattoo stared back at me, glowing faintly in the dim blue light of the cabin.
Maya looked at me, her gray eyes swimming with tears.
“Why are you doing this, Sebastian?” she whispered. “You didn't even know we existed ten hours ago. We’re a liability. We’re a target on your back.”
I tied off the bandage with a sharp, clean snap, looking straight into her eyes.
“Because thirteen years ago, I let my brother walk out of my office alone,” I said quietly, the weight of a decade of regret finally settling onto my shoulders. “And I swore to myself that if I ever got a second chance to protect a piece of Luca... I would burn the entire world to the ground before I let anyone touch them.”
May you like
Maya stared at me for a long moment, the defensive wall around her heart finally cracking. She leaned forward and rested her head against my shoulder, her silent tears soaking through the wool of my jacket.
And for the first time in thirteen years, the hollow space in my chest felt like it was finally beginning to heal.
