Page 51 of Dark Desires
Meanwhile, Alexei is calm as ever. It’s both unnerving and reassuring.
I can’t stop staring at the gun in his hand. It’s a Glock 17—I know that much from living the life that I do.
A thousand thoughts race through my mind. Who’s following us? Why now? But I keep them to myself. The last thing the situation needs is me panicking.
“You look like you’re about to pass out,” he says.
I snap out of my thoughts and answer him with a glare. “We’re being chased by people who probably want to kill us. Excuse me if I’m not exactly Zen right now.”
He smirks but before he can say a word, a second car pulls out of the alley to the front and right of us, coming to a halt in the road with a screech and cutting us off.
“Shit,” I hiss.
Alexei slams on the brakes, and my head jerks forward before the seatbelt yanks me back. The car comes to a dead stop.
My eyes are locked on the car ahead. The passenger door opens and a man in a dark suit steps out. He quickly pulls out a pistol and points it in our direction.
Alexei moves, throwing himself over me, his body shielding mine as the first shot shatters the quiet. Glass cracks and splinters, the windshield catching the barrage of bullets. I scream, pressing myself into the seat, my hands flying to my head as if that’ll somehow protect me.
The gunfire stops as quickly as it started, silence filling the air, along with the familiar tang of gunpowder. I risk a peek, my heart hammering so loud it drowns out every other sound. The windshield is a spiderweb of cracks. But the glass didn’t break. None of the rounds went through.
“Bulletproof,” Alexei says.
“Get us out of here!”
He checks his weapon one more time. “The only way out is through. Stay down.”
In the blink of an eye, he’s out of the car, the door slamming shut behind him. I peek just enough to see what’s happening through the bullet-riddled glass.
Alexei moves with a chilling grace, raising his gun, the muzzle steady as he fires.
Pop pop.
The man standing in front of the other car doesn’t even have time to react before he drops to the ground. It’s terrifying how quickly it happens.
Another man emerges from the driver’s side, gun in hand, but Alexei’s faster. He doesn’t hesitate. One shot, and the second man crumples, his weapon landing on the ground with a clatter.
My breath catches in my throat as I watch Alexei—cold, methodical, like this is just business as usual. It’s horrifying and mesmerizing all at once.
I press a trembling hand to my chest, trying to steady my breathing, but my eyes are glued to him.
Alexei stands there for a moment, his gun lowered, scanning the scene as if he’s waiting for more.
When nothing moves, he finally steps back toward the car.
The quiet doesn’t last. More gunshots explode, shattering the silence. I scream, taking cover as more rounds slam into the back windshield.
My head jerks toward the sound, and I catch sight of Alexei diving behind a nearby parked car. He takes aim, squeezing off a single shot that drops one of the three remaining men in the car behind us.
Despite everything, I can’t help the weird, twisted jolt of adrenaline that surges through me as I watch him in action. It’s like a scene out of a movie—except it’s real, and I’m in the middle of it. And Alexei? He’s the star, like James Bond and Rambo and John Wick all rolled into one.
He moves like he owns the damn street, slipping out of cover, his gun steady as he stalks forward. I feel an insane flicker of pride, even as my pulse races.
The sharp crack of shattering glass behind me rips through the air. I whip my head around just in time to see someone outside my window. He’s smashed it with some kind of tool, and now he’s reaching in, grabbing the door handle.
“Shit!” I scream, slamming my foot into his face as hard as I can. My heel connects, and he grunts, but it’s not enough to stop him. With a yell, he reaches in toward me, grabbing my leg and gripping it hard enough to hurt like hell.
“Let go of me!” I’m yelling with all the force I can, kicking my legs like a mad woman. Finally, I manage to connect with his face. His grip doesn’t loosen, but he shouts, letting me know I did some damage.
