[Camden]
Kendall makes a surprised squeak, her head pressing into my thigh as I try to get a clearer look at the car on our tail.
The sharp pop of gunfire rings out, followed by a shattering sound as a bullet takes out the back glass, splintering it like ice.
"Fuck!" I curse, jerking the wheel hard to the left, cutting in front of an oncoming truck. If this asshole wants to play chicken, we'll play.
The truck horn blares, a deep, shuddering roar that reverberates through the car.
I speed up, riding so close to the massive truck's grille that the heat of the engine seems to pulse against my back. My heart pounds in my ears, but I hold steady, gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles go white.
Just before we make contact, I catch a glimpse of the trucker's wide-eyed, horrified face, and then yank the wheel to the right, swerving back into our lane at the last possible second.
The old Ford behind us tries to follow but veers off-road, bouncing wildly in the dirt as it struggles to keep up.
Kendall stays down, her breath quick and shallow against my thigh, shards of glass catching in her hair and glittering in the dim light. I keep my gaze locked on the road, but the edges of my vision are sharp with fear and fury-fear of losing her, fury that someone's out here trying to take her from me.
I swerve off the main road, tires skidding across gravel as we barrel through a stretch of farmland.
Dust billows up in thick clouds, coating the car and blocking our pursuer's line of sight. I grit my teeth, my focus a razor's edge as I steer us back onto another road, weaving through traffic and tearing through red lights without a second thought.
Finally, a parking garage appears up ahead. Dante's. I know the place well.
I take a sharp turn into it, tires screeching as we spiral up to a higher level, the car rattling with each hard turn. I park, yanking the wheel to the side and killing the engine in one swift motion.
The car goes silent, except for the heavy rasp of my breathing.
Kendall slowly sits up, her eyes wide and wild, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath.
She's staring at me like I'm someone else entirely, like I've just ripped her out of the jaws of hell. Her hands shake as she reaches up, gingerly picking glass shards from her hair. Each piece glints under the dim parking garage lights, tiny reminders of how close we came.
"It's all right. We're all right," I tell her, the words rough, like I'm saying them as much to myself.
My own breathing is ragged, adrenaline still surging in my veins like fire.
She nods, but her eyes keep darting around, as though she's half-expecting bullets to start flying again.
"What do we do now?" she whispers, her voice thin, but her gaze steady.
"First, we steal a car," I say, the decision already made.
I pop the trunk, grabbing the duffel from the wrecked back seat, then stride over to a nearby pickup truck. Kendall watches, her eyes still wide, as I break into the door with a practiced hand, sliding in and quickly hotwiring it. The engine sputters to life, and I move fast, swapping the plates with another car's.
It's a rough job, but it'll keep us moving and give us some time.
Kendall climbs into the passenger seat, still trembling, and I pull a bottle of water from the duffel, handing it to her.
Her fingers brush mine as she takes it, and I can feel the fine tremor running through her, the aftershock of it all. She takes a small sip, her breathing still uneven, her pulse visibly thrumming in her neck.
Once I'm behind the wheel, we head back out onto the street, blending in with the traffic as if we didn't just leave a trail of broken glass and burnt rubber behind us.
I grip the wheel so tightly I can feel the texture digging into my palms, my eyes darting to the rearview, scanning for any sign of the Ford or another shadow lurking just behind.
Kendall finally exhales, a long, shuddering breath, then glances over at me.
There's something different in her eyes now-a flash of heat, of exhilaration beneath the shock.
"That was… really hot," she murmurs, her voice low, a smirk tugging at her lips. She leans closer, a daring glint sparking in her gaze. "How do you feel about road head?"
I let out a rough laugh, surprised by the edge of hunger in her tone. Her eyes are fixed on mine, her look laced with a wild, reckless energy. She's not terrified anymore; she's buzzing with something else, something primal.
"You're really something, principessa," I murmur, my own smirk curling as I keep one hand on the wheel.
Her hand grazes my thigh as she shifts down, her hair spilling across my lap for an entirely different reason this time.