Page 18 of Mission Shift

I ignored him, slipping gracefully into the driver’s seat and slamming the door shut behind me. The cuffs between us pulled taut again—a constant, maddening reminder of how stupid his move to chain us together had been. The damn things were going to make this escape harder, but shooting them off wasn’t an option at the moment, not after all the noise we’d already made.

I placed my Glock between my thighs and handed him the Makarov. Locking eyes with him, I ordered him in a heavyRussian accent, “Shoot.” Then I formed a gun with my fingers, pretending to shoot out the window.

His eyes widened as if he was processing what I was doing—what I was helping him do. He took the pistol without hesitation, his large hands wrapping around it like it was second nature. His expression softened, the hard lines of suspicion giving way to cautious understanding. As he tested the weight of the weapon, flipping it in his hand with a practiced motion, his brows lifted slightly and he smirked. His gaze darted to me, and this time, his eyes didn’t hold distrust but a glimmer of reluctant gratitude.

Without a word, he racked the slide back smoothly, checking the chamber. Satisfied that a round was loaded, he disengaged the safety with a flick of his thumb and cocked the hammer, setting it into single-action mode. His movements were confident—good.

He scanned the parking lot, the barrel of the Makarov steady as it followed his gaze. The tension in his shoulders increased, but his breathing remained calm. His control surprised me. So the Boy Scout knew how to handle himself after all.

Behind us, guards spilled out of the prison, their shouts growing louder.

I shoved the key into the ignition, twisting it hard. The engine roared to life. I threw the gearshift into first, dragging Thorin’s arm along with mine. His body jerked awkwardly, but he didn’t complain, and he managed to keep the gun in his other hand trained on the advancing guards.

The gate began to close, the gap shrinking with every second that passed.

I slammed my foot down on the accelerator. The UAZ jolted forward, its tires screeching against the pavement as we shot toward the narrowing opening. My left foot hit the clutch in a sudden motion while my hand yanked the shifter into second gear. The engine whined, and I released the clutch with a swiftsnap, smashing my foot back onto the gas. The transition was seamless, the UAZ surging forward like a race car, eating up the distance between us and the gate just in time to squeeze through.

Gunfire erupted behind us, and a bullet ricocheted off the vehicle’s frame. Thorin ducked instinctively but continued to track the chaos outside.

The road ahead twisted, barely visible in the hazy moonlight. I kept the headlights off, relying on adrenaline and what I remembered seeing of the roads when we’d driven in. I gripped the wheel and the shifter tightly, towing Thorin’s hand along while I changed gears, the cuff digging into my wrist. He adjusted awkwardly to keep up. He didn’t complain though. His silence was a relief.

After a minute or so, he rested the Makarov on his thigh. I found it interesting how composed he was. This man was more than just a pretty face. For the first time, I grudgingly admitted to myself that he might actually be useful.

I rounded a tight curve, throwing us both sideways in our seats. I didn’t dare turn on the headlights. The last thing we needed was to make ourselves an easier target. The world outside was a blur of darkness, the outline of the road barely visible against the surrounding fields.

Once the land flattened out, I pushed the UAZ faster. I could feel every bump, every dip in the terrain, and if we veered off the road, the tires crunched over the weeds and uneven ground, guiding me back onto the pavement.

According to the map I’d studied while reviewing the prison layout, there was an old road nearby that had been abandoned and mostly forgotten since the border was redrawn and sealed off. There had been little detail, just a faint line fading into the tree cover, but I’d noted its location. It was a risk, but it was our best chance.

Just as I topped a low rise, the overgrown paving of the abandoned road appeared ahead, a barely perceptible opening leading into a wooded area. I eased my foot off the accelerator and guided the UAZ toward it with care, keeping the tires on the firmest patches of ground I could spot in the darkness. The road was little more than a scar on the landscape, swallowed by time and neglect, but it was there—just as the map had indicated. The tall grass and tangled undergrowth scratched against the sides of the vehicle, making an eerie sound as I maneuvered us forward.

The overgrowth here was dense enough to obscure most tracks, but I knew better than to rely on that alone. The weight of the UAZ was pressing the vegetation flat, so I kept to the edges of the shadowy path, where the ground looked firmer and more likely to spring back into shape. It wasn’t a perfect strategy, but it might be enough to slow potential pursuers. If anyone was tracking us, I didn’t want to make their job easy.

As we pressed deeper into the woods, the road became more difficult to follow, its unclear outline disappearing under layers of fallen leaves and branches. The UAZ thrashed around, knocking us about and causing the handcuffs to jerk against our wrists.

The closer we got to the border, the more the risks multiplied. This region was full of dangers: land mines buried in the earth, cameras camouflaged in trees, and patrols with untrustworthy loyalties. I drove in tense silence, my attention split between the road ahead and the threats lurking unseen.

I glanced at Thorin. He didn’t speak, but I sensed his unease. I continued moving cautiously, wary of the traps and other threats hidden in this area. For his sake, I hoped I was wrong—that we wouldn’t come across anything deadly before we reached the border.

We would have to abandon the UAZ soon so as not to be easily spotted. On foot, we’d have to be even more cautious, coveringour tracks, avoiding open ground, and staying as invisible as possible. The woods were our ally for now. Dark, treacherous, and unpredictable as they were, at least they offered some semblance of cover.

When the road narrowed, forcing me to slow even further, my chest tightened. Each turn was a gamble, but there was no turning back. If we were going to make it out of here alive, we’d have to rely on every ounce of skill we possessed, as well as a whole lot of luck.

Chapter seven

The adrenaline hadn’t left my system since I’d made the decision to take the Ice Queen’s gun. It coursed through me, keeping me hyperaware of every jolt and creak as the Russian jeep barreled through the dark forest. My thoughts were a storm of unanswered questions.

Why the hell had she made it so easy for me to take her hostage? She’d handed me a gun. That wasn’t normal. She was kicking my ass one minute and easily subdued the next. And why had she seemed to know exactly where to go, as if she had a mental map of every inch of that facility?

I shot a glance at her from the corner of my eye. She was laser-focused, her hand white-knuckling the wheel. A muscle in her neck tightened as she shifted gears and guided us deeper into the forest. The cuffs between us tugged awkwardly whenever sheadjusted her position, and she let out a huff of irritation each time. I couldn’t blame her; this arrangement wasn’t ideal.

A searing flash of light streaked across the sky, coming from somewhere behind us, followed by the deafening roar of an explosion. I ducked instinctively, slamming my free hand against the dashboard as the jeep jerked violently to the side.

“Shit!” I barked, gripping the door for balance.

The iron lady didn’t flinch. Her eyes narrowed, and she slammed her foot onto the accelerator. The tires slipped briefly before catching traction again. Another rocket screamed overhead, this time met by a thunderous boom from the opposite direction. The Ukrainians were firing back.

The forest around us lit up in flashes of orange and white. Explosions rocked the ground nearby, but she kept the jeep steady, maneuvering through the trees like a goddamn rally driver. She had nerves of steel; that was for sure.

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