Page 172 of Burn Like An Angel

I roll down the window, peeking out to evaluate how far the speeding car is behind us. I’ve no doubt they’re also armed. I don’t exactly fancy getting my head blown off while trying to defend our vehicle.

“Now, Xander! Fire!”

Aiming as best as possible, I squeeze the trigger. Pain ricochets up my arm from the kickback. The bullet hits the smooth tarmac then bounces off, missing its target.

“Shit.” I blow out a tense breath.

“Again!”

Shifting my aim higher, I fire off another shot. This time, I’m prepared for the force that pulling the trigger creates. The shot lands in their front bumper, leaving a smoking, black hole.

My head smacks into the door’s frame when Warner is forced to turn, the lanes merging into a narrower road. More cars sandwich us, forcing me to retreat so I don’t hit anyone around us.

“Take the wheel,” he instructs, clicking the car into cruise control to free up the pedals. “And pass me the gun.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes! Now!”

I lean over the console, steadying the steering wheel. Warner takes his weapon and shifts closer to the window. Ripley screeches his name in alarm, watching him leaning outside to find his aim.

Before he can pop off a shot, something hard slams into us. The impact jolts the SUV to the side, shaking us all. Warner grabs the seat to steady himself, preventing himself from falling out of the fucking car to become a human pancake.

“There!” Lennox cries out. “Blue transit van.”

A faded blue vehicle is swinging between lanes like the driver was mainlining heroin before deciding to drive. It swerves deliberately, bringing it back within range. The front rams into us, causing another rough impact.

“Xander!” Ripley screams in alarm.

I lose grip of the wheel, causing the SUV to slam into the railings. Sparks fly. Metal grinds, causing a horrific screech. Warner retakes his seat, abandoning his attempts to fire at our pursuers.

“Incoming!” Ripley shouts, trying to hold steady. “Swerve, swerve!”

But we’re sandwiched against the railings, the blue transit van trapping us in place. With the Range Rover creeping up behind us, there’s nowhere to go but forwards.

“Brace for impact!” Warner yells.

SMASH.

More screams come from the back seat. We’re rammed repeatedly, each slam causing the tyres to slip. Warner pulls us into the middle lane before another impact can land.

“Hang on,” he warns.

It’s futile. Our pursuers ram their front bumper into the back of the car. It propels us forward, giving the van the perfect chance to hit us at an angle.

SMASH.

My stomach lurches when our tyres leave the tarmac. Reality slows to a crawl, hitting me in horrific jolts. The car is airborne. Warner desperately flails. We’re going too fast to prevent the inevitable.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Each time the SUV hits the road, flipping us over in a death roll, agony crashes over me. It feels like my bones are being pulled out and ground into a fine dust, unable to withstand each hit.

Blood pours down my face. Hot. Slippery. Something burns. The pain… It’s overwhelming. Something else cracks. Distant wails sound dull in the weightlessness.

Head smashing on a surface, everything blackens. The crying and pained howling all around me feels like it’s happening above surface while I’m sinking to the bottom of a frozen lake.

Forcing my eyelids to lift, all I can see is smoke. Crackling flames. Shattered glass. Twisted, unrecognisable metal. I think… I’m upside down. Pinned by the seat belt making my ribcage wail.

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