Chapter 48 Chapter 48
The road ahead vanished into mist. The van’s headlights carved two pale tunnels through the fog. For a long moment, neither spoke. Only the hum of the engine and the steady blink of the drive filled the silence.
Finally, she said, “You think if you burn this all down, it’ll erase what you did.”
“I don’t expect erasure,” he said. “Just the truth.”
“And me?” she asked. “What am I in all this?”
He glanced at her, eyes softening. “The reason I haven’t given up.”
The words hung in the air—unsteady, dangerous, real.
A sound broke the quiet: the low growl of an engine behind them. Adrian’s head snapped toward the mirror. Two headlights appeared through the fog, distant but closing.
Nina’s pulse jumped. “We’re followed.”
He downshifted, watching the mirror. “They found us faster than I thought.”
“Raske?”
“Maybe. Or László’s men cashing in early.”
“What do we do?”
He reached for the pistol beside the seat. “Keep breathing.”
The van surged forward, engine protesting but holding. The headlights behind them grew brighter, sharper. Whoever it was, they weren’t hiding anymore.
Nina gripped the door handle. “We can’t outrun them in this thing.”
“No,” Adrian said. “But we can make them regret trying.”
He tossed her a small metal object—another drive, older, dented. “Backup,” he said. “If they catch us, you take it and run.”
“Where?”
“East. There’s an archive in Brno that owes Viktor a favour. They’ll know what to do.”
She stared at the drive, then at him. “You’re not coming?”
“Not if this goes wrong.”
“It’s already wrong,” she whispered.
He smiled, faint but real. “Then we keep driving.”
The headlights behind them flared brighter—close now, far too close. The road ahead curved into darkness, and the van’s tyres hissed on wet asphalt. Rain began again, steady and cold, beating against the windshield like a clock running out of time.
The van’s wipers struggled to keep up, smearing water instead of clearing it. Headlights flared behind them — two, then four — moving like a single beast on the road. Adrian shifted gears, the old engine growling in protest.
“Hold on,” he said.
The road curved sharply around a stand of trees. The van fishtailed, straightened, and kept going. The pursuers didn’t hesitate; their beams cut through the fog, twin spears of light closing fast.
Nina braced herself, gripping the door handle. “How many?”
“Two cars,” Adrian said. “Three men each. Raske’s not wasting effort this time.”
A gunshot cracked through the rain. The van’s side mirror exploded into fragments.
“Correction,” Adrian muttered. “They’re not wasting ammo, either.”
He swerved, forcing the van onto the shoulder. Mud splashed, tyres bit through it. A second shot punched through the back door, glass raining over them.
Nina ducked instinctively. “We can’t outrun them!”
“Not planning to,” he said. “We just need to choose where it ends.”
The road dipped into a valley, hemmed by forest on both sides. The fog thickened until the headlights became halos of white, blinding and close. Adrian turned sharply onto a dirt track barely visible through the rain. The van jolted, bumping over stones, branches snapping beneath the tyres.
Behind them, the pursuers followed — engines snarling, beams bouncing like predators’ eyes.
Adrian reached under the seat, pulled out a small black case, and flipped it open. Inside, a pair of flash grenades, a knife, and a single magazine. He handed her the knife.
“Just in case,” he said.
She took it, fingers trembling but steady enough. “You came prepared.”
He gave a thin smile. “I told you — old habits die slow.”
The dirt road narrowed into a bridge spanning a small river. The water below was swollen from rain, rushing fast. The bridge itself was a relic — rusted girders and rotting planks. Adrian slowed just enough to make it across, the structure groaning beneath them.
Halfway over, the first car hit the bridge behind them. The wood shuddered. Nina looked back — two figures leaning from windows, rifles glinting.
“Adrian—!”
He braked hard. The van skidded sideways, metal screaming against metal. Bullets sparked off the railings.
Adrian threw open his door. “Out!”
They hit the ground running, sliding down the embankment into the trees. The rain turned the slope into mud, every step half a fall. Behind them, the van rolled forward, its wheels spinning.
Adrian turned, fired once. The bullet hit the van’s fuel line. A second later, the vehicle went up in a dull, concussive bloom. Fire tore through the fog, lighting the trees like dawn.
The bridge collapsed.
The first pursuing car didn’t stop in time. It slammed into the wreckage, metal twisting. The second skidded sideways, screeching to a halt inches from the edge.
Nina hit the ground hard, chest heaving. The explosion echoed through the valley. Rain hissed on flame.
Adrian crouched beside her, checking the pistol’s chamber. “We’re not done.”
“I gathered that,” she said, voice hoarse.
He nodded toward the treeline. “This way.”
They moved through the woods, the fire’s glow fading behind them. The ground was slick, the branches clawing at their coats. Every sound was amplified — distant shouts, the bark of a dog, the hiss of rain through leaves.
Adrian slowed at a ridge overlooking the valley. Through the mist, they could see the remaining car doors open, men spreading out with flashlights. One of them pointed toward the forest.
“They’re tracking us,” she whispered.
He nodded. “They’ll sweep in a line. We can use that.”
“How?”
“By breaking it.”
He led her along the ridge, careful and fast. The rain muffled their steps, but the flashlights below were closing in. She could hear the dogs now — sharp, urgent barks that sliced through the storm.
Adrian stopped at a fallen tree. “When I move, you go downhill to that ditch,” he said. “Keep the drives on you. Don’t stop.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll make sure they stop following.”
She grabbed his arm. “No. You’re not—”
He looked at her, calm even through the chaos. “You said you wanted to finish this. This is how we do it.”
“Not like this,” she said, voice shaking. “Not alone.”
A faint smile touched his lips. “I’m never alone when you’re angry.”
Then he was gone — slipping into the dark like he’d always belonged there.