Page 43 of Heritage of Fire

The car rumbles to a start and he shifts into drive.

Twenty minutes into our trip back, Nik is acting strange. His concentration keeps slipping from the road, to the rearview mirror, then back to the road again. He switches to the right lane, then swerves back to the left, letting his next glance in the rearview mirror linger. He tightens his grip on the steering wheel, body tense and alert.

I squint into the side-view mirror, the glass speckled with water droplets. A black SUV, similar to the one we’re riding in, is right on our bumper. Nik steps on the gas, and the car speeds up.

“We’ve got a tail.”

“A tail?”

“The Bratva has many enemies. Splinter groups that come sniffing around. One of them must’ve gotten word we’re here—someone probably tipped them off after we landed.” Nik’s words are clipped short, his movements sharp. Worlds different from his casual, charming personality.

“Dial Luka. Put him on speaker.” Nik tosses his phone in my lap. I fumble with it, trying to type in the password he spits at me.

“Nikolai.” Luka’s voice booms. I hold the phone up and glance behind us to see the black vehicle revving up to our bumper. Nik swerves over to the middle lane.

“Boss. Bogey behind us. Seems to be the only one. Permission to take it out before heading back?” Nik hits the gas a little harder, cutting off another car as he takes a ramp to exit the highway.

“Still behind,” I say, trying to keep Nik’s focus on the road in front of us.

“Luna?” Luka says, and sighs. “Fine, Nik, go ahead. Stay safe, brother.” The phone clicks off and I toss it onto the center console.

A sudden hit to the bumper jolts me forward. Nik curses and speeds past another car, this time on a two-lane road. Nausea rolls through me as his driving becomes jerky and bumpy, but I whip my head around in time to see the SUV barrel into us once again.

Nik slams his palm on the wheel. “Come on, you assholes!”

An unanticipated right turn flings my body into his, and I struggle to right myself. A gunshot rings out, the bullet rattling around the trunk before finding its mark in the back seat.

“Get down, Luna.”

I duck as another shot takes out the side-view mirror closest to me. The glass shatters with a loud pop. Horns blare. My grip on the door tightens as my heart feels like it’s going to pound out of my chest. I glance at Nik, and his gaze is focused, determination etched into the lines of his forehead.

Three more gunshots strike the car, and Nik jerks the wheel to the left, taking a narrow cobblestone road past a row of townhouses. He hits a speed bump and the car lifts a fraction, enough to cause the pit in my stomach to rise into my throat. We land with a thud, bottoming out. Our tires squeal as he takes another sharp turn.

Traffic thins out as Nik leads the pursuing car away from more populated areas—the city giving way to the countryside. The SUV gains ground and nudges its nose into our rear, causing us to swerve with each hit.

“Hold on.”

Nik reaches into his coat pocket and takes out a gun. Panic explodes in my chest as he takes his hands off the wheel to cock it. We’re rammed again, and our car spins around with the momentum of the hit. I reach out in front of me to stabilize myself. Once we’ve come to a stop, Nik throws us in reverse and slams his foot on the gas.

We barrel backward down the road, the other SUV now in front of us, its bumper practically touching ours as it follows our retreat. Another shot misses us, and Nik rolls his window down.

My eyes widen, and on instinct, I grab for the back of his pants. “Nik! You?—”

He thrusts his upper body out the window and fires four shots of his own. Glass explodes, and our attacker’s windshield collapses inward. He fires two more shots, and I scream when a bullet lands between the eyes of the driver. Nik punches the brakes, whipping our car out of the way as the SUV careens off the road and veers toward a wooden farm fence.

With a deafening crash, the vehicle collides with one of the wooden posts, sending splinters flying into the air. I stare in shock at the now totaled car, its front end completely crumpled from the impact. Its horn blares, unrelenting.

I clench my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut as Nik revs the engine. Our tires squeal as he races out of the area, leaving the dead driver and the SUV behind.

After several turns, he slows to a stop and shifts to examine me.

“Tell me you’re okay.” His breathing is labored, knuckles white against the steering wheel. I let out my own deep breath, hands shaking as I rub my forehead. “Luna!” he barks.

“I’m fine, sorry. I’m okay.” He scans my body. I suddenly have an overwhelming urge to reach out to him. “Are—are you okay?”

“Da.” He snags his phone and types out a quick message before throwing the car back into gear. “We’re going home.”

The ride back is silent. Between our sprint through the rain and the nerves racking my body from nearly getting run off the road, I’m exhausted. It’s almost unfair how composed Nik is. Did what happened even bother him?

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