Marcus casts his two friends a look. The glance only lasts for a second at most, but in that one second, I see every single emotion he’s feeling.
Anger. Desperation. Frustration.
Love.
Such a deep, abiding love that it breaks my heart.
There’s no time to argue. There’s no time to say much of anything. I can tell Marcus hates this, but he doesn’t push back against his friends. He just nods once. “Stay the fuck alive.”
“You too.” Ryland’s hazel eyes are serious.
Two more bullets hit the car with a metallic ringing sound, and Theo braces himself against the side door and fires back. Then he reaches out and palms the back of my head, dragging me toward him to press a hard, fast kiss to my lips, not seeming to give a fuck that Marcus and Ryland are watching.
He’s never done this before. Never been the one to initiate a kiss between us.
And I hate it.
Because it feels like he’s saying goodbye.
My heart gallops in my chest as Theo releases me, his eyes burning with words he has no time to say and I have no time to hear. Then he braces himself against the car again and raises his arm over the trunk, firing at our pursuers once more. Ryland’s gaze catches mine before he joins his friend, and then Marcus is grabbing my hand, pulling me to my feet.
“Keep your head down. And run like hell,” he mutters.
More shots split the air as Ryland and Theo fire at Carson and Dom, forcing them to take cover as Marcus yanks me out from behind the car.
And then we’re running.
Heads low, bodies slightly bent, we sprint away from the car and the sound of gunshots. I barely got a chance to take in our surroundings after we crashed into the streetlamp on the side of the road, but Marcus is obviously better at this shit than I am. He seems to know where we’re going, dragging me along the side of a broad building before ducking around the corner of it.
We’re in the middle of the warehouse district now, and large, squat structures are lined up side by side, interspersed with large stacks of shipping containe
rs. Gunshots and shouts fill the air behind us as we run at a flat-out sprint, and my heart feels like it’s falling to pieces with every heavy thud of my feet.
Theo and Ryland.
Fuck, what’s happening to them? Will they get boxed in by Dominic and Carson, just like Carson originally planned?
I can barely think. It takes all my focus just to run, to keep my balance as we skid around the sides of buildings and down narrow passageways between them. And every time a thought does manage to take hold in my brain, it sends a fresh wave of panic through me.
Gripping Marcus’s hand tightly, I throw a quick glance over my shoulder. I don’t see anyone behind us. And the sound of gunshots are faint in the distance now, so quiet I could almost convince myself I don’t hear them.
Has the shooting stopped?
Are the other two men running just like we are?
Are they still alive?
My chest aches and my lungs burn from the burst of intense exertion coupled with fear. But still, we keep running. My footsteps begin to flag, my feet stumbling over each other, but I force myself to keep moving. To keep going. Marcus pulls me along, unrelenting in his determination to keep me safe.
Finally, he drags me around another corner and comes to a stop, pressing me against the wall of the large building as we both gasp for breath. He peers back around the corner, his gun gripped tightly in his hand.
“Is there… anyone there?” I gasp.
“No.” His voice is controlled, although I can hear the strain beneath it, and I know it’s not from the physical exertion. “But that doesn’t mean they’re not following us. Carson’s a slippery motherfucker. It depends on who he wanted more. Me, or Theo and Ryland.”
My heart skips with a strange mix of hope and fear. Maybe Carson and Dominic split up, each of them pursuing one part of our group. But if they didn’t… if they had to choose? Which choice did they make?
“Can you run again?”