Page 84 of Forbidden Sins

Sebastian gets us an old black sedan, serviceable, but once again, nothing that is going to outrun Vito’s men. “We’re going to have to evade them, not outrun them,” Sebastian says as weget in, seeing my expression. “It’s hard to find the kind of car that could outrun them with the limitations we have right now.”

We drive for another hour or so, the soft background hum of the radio the only sound."What are you thinking about?" Sebastian asks finally, his eyes on the road as we wind our way through another long stretch of nothing.

"About how different my life is going to be from what I always expected,” I say softly, looking at the open road ahead of us. I glance at him, and I see his jaw tighten a little.

"Do you regret it?" The question is casual, but I can hear the tension underneath.

I turn to look at him, taking in his profile in the glow of the late-morning sun. The strong jaw, the slight furrow between his brows, the lips I now know the taste of, the stubble that I love rasping against my palms. "Not for a second," I tell him truthfully. "I'm starting to think that inheritance was more of a prison than a privilege."

He glances at me, surprise evident in his expression. "You're not upset about losing it all?"

"I'm not saying I won't miss certain comforts," I admit with a small laugh. "But when I think about the life that was planned out for me—marrying Vito, being the perfect mafia wife, turning a blind eye to all the ugliness—I can't believe I ever thought that was what I wanted." I reach over to place my hand on his thigh, needing the physical connection. "This feels more like freedom than anything I've ever known."

Sebastian covers my hand with his, squeezing gently. "I still can't shake the feeling that I've taken something from you. Your family, your security, your future?—"

"You didn't take anything I wasn't willing to give up," I interrupt. "I made this choice, Sebastian.Wemade it. Together. Nothing about this is ever going to be your fault. And if we’regoing to have a future, we’re going to have to leave that feeling in the dust somewhere along the road."

He doesn't look convinced, and I can see the guilt still weighing on him. Before I can press the issue, he tenses, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror.

"What is it?" I ask, twisting to look behind us.

"Another SUV. They've been following the same turns we have for the last few minutes." His voice is calm, but I can hear the undercurrent of concern. "Could be nothing. Could be trouble."

My heart rate picks up immediately. "What do we do?"

"For now, we keep driving normally. No sudden moves." His hand moves from mine to the gun tucked into his waistband. "But be ready to duck down if I tell you to. Make sure your gun is ready if you need it."

The next few minutes are excruciating. The headlights behind us maintain a steady distance—not closing in, but not turning off either. Sebastian takes a sudden right turn onto a smaller road, and my stomach drops when the car behind us follows.

"Definitely not a coincidence," Sebastian mutters. "Hold on."

Without warning, he floors the accelerator, and I'm pushed back against my seat as the car surges forward. The car behind us grows smaller for a moment, then rapidly begins to close the distance again.

"They're faster than us," I say, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.

“Let’s hope I’m a better driver,” Sebastian growls, taking another sharp turn that has me gripping the door handle.

He takes us through a series of increasingly complex turns, the tires squealing in protest. I can see his focus, the way his eyes constantly check the mirrors, the road ahead, and the speedometer. This is the Sebastian I first knew—theprofessional, the protector, the man who stayed three steps ahead of any threat.

For a moment, it seems like we're losing them. The car disappears from view after a particularly sharp turn. Sebastian maintains our speed, navigating the winding road with precision.

"I think we—" I begin, but the words die in my throat as the black SUV suddenly veers out in front of us from the treeline along the road.

Sebastian curses, slamming on the brakes and wrenching the wheel to the side. The car skids, and for a terrifying moment, I think we're going to crash. Somehow, he manages to bring us to a stop just short of the vehicle blocking our path.

"Get down!" he shouts, and I don't hesitate, ducking below the dashboard as the first shots ring out.

Glass shatters above me as bullets tear through the windshield. Sebastian returns fire, his movements quick and precise. I hear shouts, more gunfire, and then Sebastian's hand on my shoulder.

“Stay down,” he growls. “We’re going to run for it. They’re down, and we need to go. Don’t move.”

The car accelerates, almost throwing me to the floorboard if I didn’t have my seatbelt on. Sebastian curses, and I feel the hard bump of the car moving over difficult terrain as we veer around the SUV and into the bumpy, grassy side of the road. I hear another shot behind us, and Sebastian floors it, the tires squealing and the car fishtailing as we lurch forward.

“I shot out the tires,” he explains breathlessly as we drive. “They won’t be going anywhere fast. We’re going to drive until we get out of the state, maybe a couple of states over, and then we’ll stop for the night. We need to put a lot of distance between us and them, and we need to be somewhere that your fatherdoesn’t have the kind of sway that he has in New York and close by.”

“Where are we going?” I ask, swallowing hard.

“We’ll stop in Ohio, maybe. Indiana or Kentucky, if I can get us that far. And then from there we’ll cut west again.” He looks over at me. “Sleep if you can, princess. It’s going to be a long day and night.”

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