Page 12 of Marked By His Touch

“They followed us earlier,” Alexander says, “drive!”

“Oh, shit,” Isaac growls, his hand a vise grip on the steering wheel.

He starts driving even though the light is still red. The car accelerates and slams into our rear end. The jarring jolt throwsme against the door. My breath catches in my throat, a silent scream trapped behind my teeth.

“Ava, get down,” Alexander commands, protecting me with his body.

Isaac reacts instantly. The engine roars and the tires screech as he maneuvers the car through the main street of Port Haven. It’s getting dark, and the city lights blur into a kaleidoscope of lights and rain-drenched asphalt.

I brace myself, fingers clawing at the worn leather. The impact throws me against Alexander, a collision of bodies in a confined space. His hand catches me before I can tumble.

The Mercedes is bearing down, its headlights like burning eyes in the rearview mirror. It’s gaining fast.

“Take the shortcut,” Alexander growls, his hand already slipping inside his jacket, his fingers finding the grip of his gun.

“They’re playing dirty,” Isaac says. There’s a steely edge to his words. “They’ve been following you?”

My breath catches in my throat. “We thought we lost them earlier, but it was just a distraction,” I glance back, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“Shortcut, Isaac!” Alexander’s voice hammers as he aims his gun at the black car behind us.

“Yeah, yes—” Isaac gasps, his forehead slick with sweat. He slams the steering wheel, cutting hard into a narrow alley, tires screaming in protest. The Mercedes follows, its headlights cutting through the dusk, illuminating the claustrophobic space. I brace myself, my muscles taut.

“Not this one!” Alexander shouts, but it’s too late.

We’re trapped, sandwiched between a towering brick wall and a row of overflowing garbage bins. Isaac slams on the brakes, jolting the car to a sudden halt. The Mercedes screeches to a halt, inches from our rear bumper. My body tense, my muscles coiled like springs, anticipating the impact. The carbehind us screeches to a stop, its tires skidding on the pavement inches away from our rear bumper.

A moment hangs, suspended in time.

“They’re not going to let us get away,” Isaac mutters, his gaze fixed on the rearview mirror.

“Reverse, full power,” Alexander barks, already leaping from the backseat to the passenger seat, rolling down the window, gun in hand. The scent of burning rubber fills the air, a sharp, acrid tang that mixes with the rain and the city’s grime.

“What?” Isaac asks, a touch of confusion in his voice.

“Just do it,” Alexander growls. “I’ll cover us.”

Isaac slams the steering wheel, the car jolting violently as we reverse, tires spitting gravel. Alexander leans out the window, a blur of movement, and fires two shots at the Mercedes’s tires.

I cover my ears, ducking.

Damn, it’s loud!I feel the impact, the crunch of metal on metal, as our car slams into the front of the other car. Isaac presses the accelerator, the engine roaring with power, tires screaming in protest.

“More!” Alexander shouts, his voice a command, a force driving us forward.

Suddenly, we’re back on the main road, the sedan looking like a deflated balloon. The city lights blur, as Isaac pushes the car to its limits, weaving through traffic and narrowly missing a speeding taxi.

My body is a ragdoll, tossed around. I slam against the door, my head bouncing off the window. The world is all headlights, and black colors. Adrenaline courses through my veins.

And then, he slows down.

“But—but—” I stammer.

“It’s okay,” Alexander says, his gun still pointing out the window, his shoulders easing slightly. His dark hair is tousled by the wind, his arm flexing.

He’s never looked hotter.

The car following us is gone, left behind in the rearview mirror.

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