The Price of Truth

The moon hung low over Verdonia, casting an eerie glow over the narrow streets as Anastasia sped through the city. The small, rented car lurched forward, its engine growling with each turn. Next to her, Maximilian lay slumped in the passenger seat, his breathing shallow and uneven. Blood had soaked through his shirt, leaving a deep, crimson stain that darkened with every passing moment.

Anastasia tightened her grip on the steering wheel, her heart pounding in her chest as she scanned the streets for any sign of danger. They had escaped, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that the city itself was hunting them, waiting for them to slip. The shadows seemed alive, watching from every alley.

“You’re driving like we’re being chased,” Maximilian muttered, his voice strained, the edge of humor faltering beneath the weight of pain. He tried to open his eyes, but the effort was too much.