Page 57 of Bound to the Enforcer

I turn my head just in time to see one of the trucks lurch forward, its engine roaring to life. The convoy is trying to escape.

"Get them!" I shout, adrenaline kicking in despite the pain from the bullet that grazes my side. I don't even know where it comes from.

Alessio doesn't hesitate. He's already moving, his gun firing off shots with precise fury, taking out one of the guards trying to retreat. He's methodical, his every movement calculated, but I can see the tension in his shoulders—he's just as furious as I am.

The fireball from the explosion lights up the night, but it doesn't stop the convoy from moving. The driver in the first truck panics and accelerates, slamming on the gas as if the chaos behind them won't catch up.

"They're getting away!" I shout again, pushing myself to my feet, ignoring the way my body protests with each movement.

"Sophia, don't!" Alessio calls, his voice filled with warning, but I'm already running. I don't stop.

My side stings with every step, but I don't care. I can't.

I make it to the second truck in the convoy just as one of the guards opens fire. My shot hits him before he can react,and he drops like a stone. But there's no time to savor the hit. I'm already pulling myself up onto the truck, my boots scraping against the metal, forcing myself not to stumble.

I leap into the cab, grabbing the driver by the shoulder and slamming his face into the wheel. He's out in seconds, his body slumping forward. The truck jerks as I yank the wheel, veering it into a nearby alleyway, cutting off the convoy's escape route.

I glance in the rearview mirror just in time to see the other truck screech to a halt, the driver realizing the road's blocked.

But it's not enough. They need to be stopped. All of them.

The pain in my side flares as I move to the back of the truck, my gun raised. I can hear footsteps—more guards, getting ready to fight. I've taken their driver, but there's still the matter of the rest of them.

The rest of the convoy is already stopping, their men disembarking quickly to cover the trucks, but they're caught off guard. They weren't expecting this.

The first shot rings out, but I'm already moving, the van's door swinging open, and I dive out, gun in hand.

"Cover me!" I shout, but I don't wait for an answer. I'm already running toward the truck, my gun raised.

I hear Alessio shouting for me to get back, but I keep my eyes on the men at the far side, trying to form up. They're unprepared, caught in the chaos.

I fire again, taking down another guard as he tries to scramble to cover, but I don't stop to watch him fall. There's no time for that.

I reach the last truck, the one I've been aiming for—the one that's supposed to have the kids.

I can hear their muffled sounds. A mix of fear and confusion. They're still in there. They're still alive.

"Alessio!" I shout as I reach for the back door of the truck, my hands shaking as I pull it open. "They're still in here!"

I rush inside, my heart pounding in my chest. The kids are huddled together, eyes wide, some too young to even understand what's happening. But they're alive. They're here.

I step inside, my gun still in my hand, my breath coming faster now. There's no time to explain, no time to comfort them. They need to be out. They need to be safe.

I turn to one of the older girls, her face streaked with dirt and fear. "Get out, now," I order, my tone harsh but firm. "Get to the van. Go!"

She nods, scrambling to the door, and I usher her out quickly, pulling the others behind her.

Outside, the fight is still raging. Alessio is firing from cover, his movements quick, calculating, as he watches over me.

Another shot rings out, and I barely register the pain in my side until I feel my legs give out under me. The world spins as I stagger, trying to stay on my feet.

I look down. Blood is pooling at my feet.

"Sophia!" Alessio yells.

I don't answer. I can't. The pain is sharp, relentless, and I can barely keep my vision steady.

But I force myself to move, pushing through the dizziness. "Get the kids out of here," I manage barely above a whisper.

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