Page 45 of The Don's Arranged Marriage

My hands tighten around the steering wheel as I glance at her in the passenger seat.

Her knuckles are white, clutching at the door handle like she's ready to fling it open and tumble onto the road.

"We can't go to a hospital," I repeat for what feels like the hundredth time.

"They'll be watching for us there."

Her eyes flick to mine, wide and panicked.

"But you're bleeding. You've been shot. We have to—"

"I've dealt with worse." The lie slips easily from my tongue.

My side is on fire, the bullet hole searing with pain.

But I can't let her see how bad it is.

I have to stay calm, for her sake.

The brakes squeal as I take a corner too fast, trying to put distance between us and the road behind.

Even if we've lost them, I want to be careful because Diana is by my side.

My heart leaps into my throat at the sound.

Shit.

Not now.

I pump the brakes again but there's no response.

We're coasting, picking up speed down the hill.

The brake lines.

They must have been cut.

Diana grabs the handbrake and yanks it up, trying to slow us down.

I wrestle it from her grip. "No, that'll make us spin out."

Think.

I have to think fast or we'll crash.

My mind races, calculating angles and trajectories, searching for a solution.

There.

I crank the steering wheel left, sending us bumping and scraping along the guardrail.

Diana screams, clutching at me, but I keep my eyes fixed ahead.

Metal shrieks against metal, throwing up sparks, but it's working.

We're slowing down.

When we finally grind to a stop, Diana collapses against me, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

---