Page 69 of The Enforcer's Vow
"There," I point to a black sedan parked at the curb. "That one."
"How do you know it'll start?"
"Just get in!" I snap as I throw my elbow into the driver's side window, then climb in and unlock the doors. I pull out myknife and jimmy the ignition, popping the metal cylinder out and quickly stripping the wires back.
The engine turns over on the first try, and I pull away from the curb just as the first Karpin soldiers emerge from the metro entrance. They see us and start running, but we're already moving.
"They're following us," Zoya says, looking back through the rear window.
I check the rearview mirror. Two cars, maybe three. They're gaining on us, but I know these streets better than they do.
I take a hard right onto Tverskaya Street, tires screaming against the asphalt. The car behind us tries to follow, but the driver takes the turn too fast. I watch in the mirror as he clips a parked car and spins out.
"My God," Zoya breathes in fear, gripping the door handle with white knuckles.
The second car is more careful, but he's also slower. I weave through traffic, using the congestion as cover. A taxi honks as I cut in front of him, but I'm already three cars ahead.
I hear the crack of gunfire and feel the rear window explode. Glass showers the back seat, and I floor the accelerator. The car surges forward, engine roaring.
"Maksim." Zoya's voice is tight with fear. "They're shooting."
"Stay down," I tell her, taking another hard turn.
We're on a residential street now, narrow and winding. The houses flash past in a blur of lights and shadows. I can hear the pursuit behind us, but they're having trouble keeping up.
Then I hear the sound that makes my blood run cold—the high-pitched whine of a bullet ricocheting off metal. They got our tire.
The car lurches to the left, and I fight to keep control. The steering wheel jerks in my hands, and I can feel the rim grinding against the asphalt. We're losing speed, and fast.
"There." Zoya points to a narrow alley between two buildings. "Can we fit?"
"We're about to find out."
I yank the wheel hard to the right, and we careen into the alley. The car scrapes against the brick walls on both sides, sparks flying. Behind us, I hear the screech of brakes as our pursuers realize they can't follow.
We emerge onto another street, but the car is finished. Steam pours from under the hood, and the tire is completely shredded. I pull over and kill the engine.
"Out," I tell Zoya. "We go on foot from here."
We abandon the car and run through the maze of back streets. My ribs are on fire, and I can taste blood in my mouth, but I don't slow down. Zoya keeps pace beside me, her breathing hard but steady.
After ten minutes of running, I finally allow us to stop. We're on a quiet side street, hidden in the shadows between two apartment buildings. I lean against a wall and try to catch my breath.
"Are you hurt?" Zoya asks, her hands on my face.
"I'm fine." But I'm not. I can feel something grinding in my chest when I breathe, and my vision keeps blurring at the edges.
"You're bleeding."
I look down and see that my shirt is soaked with blood. Some of it is mine, some of it belongs to the men I killed. I can't tell the difference anymore.
"I thought you were going to die," she says quietly. "When Damir had that knife, when you fell down the stairs… I thought I was going to lose you."
"You didn't lose me."
"But I could have." Her voice breaks. "My whole world flashed before my eyes, and you were in every part of it. The baby, our future, everything—it all centers around you."
I pull her closer, ignoring the pain in my ribs. "We're safe now."
