Chapter Twenty One

The sound of the bullet tearing through the glass shattered the silence inside the car, the explosion of noise like a lightning strike. Shards rained down on Sarah and Antonio as Marco swerved wildly, trying to regain control of the vehicle. The SUV behind them loomed larger, its dark form a menacing predator stalking its prey.

Sarah ducked instinctively, her heart hammering against her ribs as the wind whipped through the open rear window. "Marco, they're gaining!" she shouted, panic edging her voice.

"Yeah, I can see that," Marco shot back, his grip white-knuckled on the steering wheel. He jerked the car into a sharp left turn, tires screeching on the wet pavement as they narrowly avoided colliding with a parked car. "Hold on!"

Antonio groaned beside her, barely conscious. His skin was pale, too pale, and the blood seeping through Sarah's hands from his wound felt like a slow, dreadful countdown. She pressed harder, trying to stanch the flow, but it was a losing battle. The SUV behind them, the blood, the overwhelming fear—everything was spiraling out of control.

But Sarah knew this wasn't just about survival. Something bigger was in play. Rossi's arrival, the ominous message about protection, Adrian's moment of hesitation—none of it made sense. Not yet. And now they were being hunted through the streets of the city, like animals in a game they didn't understand.

"Who are these people?" Sarah's voice cracked as another bullet pinged off the back of the car. "Is it Rossi's men?"

Marco didn't answer at first, swerving through an alley and slamming the gas as they burst onto another street. The SUV stayed with them, relentless. Finally, his voice came out, low and strained. "Does it matter? They're going to kill us either way if I don't lose them."

But Sarah saw it. The way Marco's eyes kept darting to the mirror, not just with concern, but with something more—something like recognition.

He knew exactly who was behind that wheel.

Before she could push him further, the SUV rammed their car, jolting them violently forward. Sarah barely kept her balance as the car skidded. She caught a glimpse of the driver behind them—dark eyes hidden behind sunglasses, jaw set in grim determination. Whoever they were, they were sending a clear message.

The next corner came up fast. Too fast. Marco cursed, spinning the wheel, but this time, the SUV was ready. It slammed into their side, sending their car spiraling toward a narrow alley. They crashed hard, the car grinding to a halt against a pile of trash cans. For a moment, everything was still—the world holding its breath.

Marco's head hit the steering wheel with a sickening thud, and he slumped over, unconscious.

"Marco!" Sarah screamed, shaking him, but he didn't respond.

The SUV screeched to a halt behind them, the doors opening in eerie unison. Two men, dressed in black, stepped out. They moved with precision, like soldiers, their faces unreadable behind dark glasses. Sarah's pulse raced. They weren't just hitmen. This was something else.

She scrambled to unbuckle Antonio, her hands shaking. "Come on," she whispered, though it was more for herself than for him. "We've got to move. We've got to—"

The click of a gun's safety made her freeze. Slowly, Sarah looked up.

One of the men stood over her now, his gun trained directly on her chest. His partner circled around to the other side of the car, yanking Antonio out roughly, like he was nothing more than a sack of potatoes.

"You're coming with us," the man with the gun said, his voice flat, emotionless.

Sarah's mind raced. Run? Fight? Neither seemed like an option. She was trapped. But her instincts, sharpened by months of living in Adrian's world, told her there was more going on here than a simple hit. These men didn't want to kill her. Not yet, at least.

She raised her hands slowly, trying to keep her voice calm, though her heart felt like it was going to explode. "Look, you don't have to do this. Whatever Rossi's paying you—"

The man cut her off with a cold smile. "This isn't about money."

A chill ran through Sarah. This wasn't Rossi. This was someone else. Someone pulling strings from the shadows. She opened her mouth to speak again, to try and buy time, but before she could say anything more, the man's phone buzzed.

He looked down at the screen, his brow furrowing slightly. After a long pause, he lowered the gun.

"Change of plans," he muttered, his voice barely audible. Then, to his partner, "Take her. Leave the others."

Sarah's stomach dropped. Take her? Where? Why? She tried to keep her composure, but the terror gnawing at her was growing with each second. "What are you doing? Who are you—"

But the man simply grabbed her arm, dragging her toward the SUV. She struggled, but his grip was like iron.

Antonio, still semi-conscious, let out a weak groan, his eyes fluttering open for just a second. "Sarah…" he rasped, barely able to form the words. But she couldn't help him now. They were taking her, and leaving the rest behind.

She looked back desperately, hoping—praying—that Marco would wake up, that somehow Adrian would appear, that this nightmare would end.

But as she was forced into the SUV, her hope slipped further away. The doors slammed shut, sealing her fate.

And as the vehicle sped off into the night, one thought echoed in Sarah's mind, louder than the sirens, louder than the fear: Who was coming for her now?