Page 37 of Breeding Justice

"Rude. I’m right here.”

“Skylar, focus,” Bash said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“We’re close," I said. "Just through the lobby."

We moved to the exit, and I cracked the door open. The lobby was a grand, decayed ruin, with a massive chandelier hanging precariously from the ceiling. Once-opulent furniture lay in tatters, and the front desk was a splintered wreck. I scanned the room and saw two guards near the main entrance, their backs to us.

I closed the door and turned to the others. "We have a clear shot to the front. If we’re quick and quiet, we can make it."

The tension was suffocating as we moved together toward the exit, every footstep deliberate, every breath held.

I didn’t know how we were going to get out of here. All I knew was that we had to.

And once we did, Vito was going to pay.

Chapter Sixteen: Skylar

We burst through the lobby doors and into the night. The cool air was a slap to the face, shocking us back to life after the stifling heat of the building. I scanned the street, looking for anything we could use—a car, a bike, even a makeshift weapon. The block was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that hummed with potential violence.

"This way," I said, pulling them toward a dark alley that cut between two dilapidated buildings. Our footsteps echoed off the brick walls, creating a dissonant rhythm with our ragged breathing. I could feel the adrenaline starting to wear off, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion. We weren’t out of this yet.

A shout rang out behind us, and I turned to see three of Vito’s men sprinting from the hotel entrance. One raised a gun, and I tackled Justice to the ground as a shot cracked the night air. The bullet ricocheted off a dumpster, sending sparks into thealley. Justice, with a sudden burst of strength, grabbed a loose pipe lying nearby and swung it at the nearest man. The pipe connected with a sickening thud, and the man stumbled back, clutching his leg. She dropped the weapon immediately, her strength giving out, but it bought us precious seconds.

"Go, go!" I yelled, pulling Justice to her feet. Bash had already rounded the corner, and we stumbled after him, our bodies running on sheer willpower.

We emerged onto a side street, and I spotted an old sedan parked under a broken streetlight. Its paint was peeling, and one of the tires looked low, but it was our best shot. I pointed to it, and Bash nodded.

"Get my wife," he said, already moving toward the car. I didn’t argue. I put an arm around Justice’s waist and half-carried her across the street. Her body was hot and clammy, and I could feel her strength slipping away.

Bash shattered the driver’s side window with his elbow, then reached in to unlock the door. Glass tinkled to the pavement as he slid into the seat and ducked down to check the ignition. I set Justice against the car’s rear fender and drew my gun, looking back toward the alley. Shadows moved in the distance.

"How’s it look?" I asked Bash.

"No keys," he said, sitting up. He tossed me a tire iron. "Make it quick."

I opened the passenger door and grabbed the steering column, wrenching it with the tire iron. The plastic casing cracked, and I pulled it away to reveal a tangle of wires. My fingers worked with a practiced speed, stripping the right ones and twisting them together. Sparks flew, and the engine coughed but didn’t catch.

"Come on," I muttered, giving it another go. The engine sputtered to life, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Bash got out and opened the back door for Justice. She tried to climb in on her own, but her body betrayed her, collapsing into his arms. He lifted her gently, and for a moment, I saw the tenderness he usually kept hidden. He laid her across the backseat, then closed the door with a soft click.

I slid into the driver’s seat as Bash walked around to the passenger side. He paused, looking back toward the alley, and I saw his shoulders tense. He opened the door just as two of Vito’s men rounded the corner, guns drawn.

One of them shouted, and Bash turned with the speed of a striking snake, his new pistol barking twice. The first man dropped, a neat hole in his forehead. The second stumbled, clutching his chest, then raised his weapon. Bash was on him in three strides, knocking the gun away and driving a knee intothe man’s ribs. Bones cracked, and the man let out a wheezing scream.

"Bash!" I yelled, but he was lost in it, a hurricane of fists and fury. The man went limp, and Bash stood over him, chest heaving, eyes wild. Blood dripped from his knuckles.

I revved the engine, and Bash snapped back to reality. He opened the passenger door and got in, not bothering to close it as I peeled away from the curb. The door swung shut with a clang as we sped down the empty street.

I checked the rearview mirror. Justice lay motionless, her eyes closed, her breathing shallow but steady. "She’ll be okay," I said, more to myself than to Bash.

He stared out the window, his face a stone mask. "She has to be." We drove in silence for a few minutes, the city’s neon glow casting shifting patterns on the car’s interior. I took a winding route, avoiding main roads and potential checkpoints. The sedan’s engine whined like a tired dog, and I prayed it would hold together long enough to get us clear.

Bash’s voice broke the silence. "We need to get Justice to Zane first. She won’t make it without proper care."

“You don’t think they’ll be watching the Brickell building?”

“I don’t know, but I know Justice can’t just bleed out because we don’t have access to a doctor. And I’m sure you’re dying to see him.

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