Page 138 of Cara
You’re on defense. Find a way to strike, to steal their edge.
Struggling to see the unpredictable roads in front of me, barreling through clouds of pollution, crashing into heaps of trash and discarded furniture, I’m mentally charting the streets around us, orchestrating a blow they won’t recover from.
A turn here.
There.
Right through that light.
And then a left.
I nod, sensing the answer emerging within me, my hands tightening around the steering wheel.
Dante ducks down, evading the bullet that embeds itself in the headrest. “Tell me you have a plan.”
My eyes lock onto the road, seeing our only way out, the only route that leads me home… where Sophie iswaiting. “Get your seat belt on.”
He groans, dropping back into his seat. “Fuck, man.”
“Hold on.”
With a twist of the wheel, I veer into an alley, sacrificing a headlight to the edge of the building, executing a turn they can't slow down to make in time. Dante weaves curses and prayers with closed eyes as they surge in the wrong direction. He grimaces from the force of the turn I make when I spot the fire escape, the back entrance where line cooks usually gather in a cloud of smoke. Tonight, as if by divine intervention, the back alley lies completely deserted. I back the Dodge into the narrow space, barely breathing.
“You’ve got that look in your eye like you’re about to fuck shit up. What are you going to do?”
“Get into the back of the car.”
His eyes widen. “No, X?—”
I pin him with a look that holdsallmy rage. “Theback.”
He jumps into the rear, strapping himself in, and as if he’s pieced together exactly what I'm going to do, he braces himself for impact. When I hear the deafening screech of tires, my foot tenses against the accelerator.
Three.
Two.
One.
A single decision—my footslammingon the gas—and the world collapses in around me, all clouding smoke and twistedmetal as the old Dodge condemns their Mercedes, pinning it against the concrete building, trapping them with no escape.
The damn car didn’t have an airbag. Either that, or it never deployed, so my arms caught my head before it cracked against the steering wheel. Knowing I’m fucking insane for what I just risked, I lift my head, unable to see clearly. Rage and rage alone prompt me to shove the door open with my foot. Behind me, Dante’s shouting for me to wait.
Wait to see who it is.
Wait to make a move.
Snatching Dante’s gun from the passenger seat, too pissed to heed any of his warnings, I step into the frigid air, rounding the smoking vehicles. Distant voices call from above, spectators to this shocking violence. My murderous gaze connects with the driver of the Mercedes in the wing mirror, capturing the instant his eyes widen as he rattles the door that’s pinned him against the concrete, preventing him from escaping.
I occupy all of the window’s space, firing a single shot into his skull.
The passenger dives for the road, not entirely unlucky. But that luck runs out when Dante slams into him, nothing short of a giant compared to the man’s slight frame. When Dante’s massive hands seize the man’s jaw, snapping it to one side, the pressure kills the poor soul instantly.
If I weren’t so damn inconvenienced, I’d be impressed.
Pressing a hand to my throbbing head, swiping away the fresh blood that’s scaling, I wrench open the back door of the wrecked Mercedes, the wail of police sirens slicing through the ringing in my eardrums.
Andwhat I see…
