Page 87 of Silken Chains
“Igor, you good?” I shout through the fire.
Igor, ever the stoic bastard, just grunts and nods, firing off a shot that takes down one of the shooters on the rooftop.
“I’ll live. Focus on getting us the fuck out of here!”
“Smoke out on three,” I yell. “One, two, three!”
Smoke grenades fly, filling the air with a thick haze. We move as one, darting through the confusion toward our waiting SUVs. Bullets whiz past, far too close for comfort.
“Sideways, move!” I bark, pushing through to Misha.
Misha nods, and we lay down a barrage, giving Ari and the others a chance to pull back. Bullets hiss past, close enough to singe. Igor’s already at the SUV, engine roaring to life, his hand stretched out for me and Misha.
We bolt, dodging gunfire, debris flying everywhere. Ari’s right behind, but a sudden explosion to our left sends him and Igor careening off in a different direction.
“Fuck!” The word is ripped from my throat as we split up, the plan shattered in an instant. “Go, go, go!”
Misha and I dive into the nearest SUV, tires squealing as we tear away from the warehouse, the enemy hot on our heels. Igor and Ari are a separate problem now—survival’s the only game.
The SUV jolts and swerves as I take a sharp turn, nearly sending us into a spin. “Fuck, they’re gaining on us!” I yell, my knuckles white on the wheel.
Misha twists in his seat, his gun already in hand. “Keep driving, boss,” he growls, rolling down the window. “I’ll take care of these svolochi.”
The cold night air whips at his face as Misha leans out, taking aim at our pursuers. The first shot shatters their windshield; the second takes out a tire. The car veers off the road, flipping into a ditch with a sickening crunch of metal.
But there’s no time to celebrate. More headlights appear in the distance, a relentless swarm of death and vengeance. We’re not out of the woods yet, not by a long shot.
The streets blur into a frenzied streak of lights and shadows as we weave through the city, Ivan Vasiliev’s men relentless. They knew; somehow, they knew exactly when and where to hit us.
The chase is on, a deadly game of cat and mouse through the city streets. I drive like a madman, taking corners on two wheels, trying to lose our tail. But they’re good, matching us move for move.
“They’re closing in, boss!” Misha shouts, his eyes fixed on the rearview mirror.
I glance back, see the glare of headlights growing larger, the sound of gunfire echoing in the night. “Not for long,” I growl, my grip tightening on the wheel.
A sharp turn onto a less traveled road offers a brief respite, but it’s a fleeting victory. The enemy’s SUVs are relentless, bullets peppering the back of our vehicle, glass shattering, metal screaming.
“We can’t keep this up forever,” Misha says, his voice tense. “We need a plan.”
“I’m working on it,” I snap, my mind racing. “Just keep them off our ass!”
Misha nods, leaning out the window and firing back at our pursuers. The sound of gunfire fills the air, mixed with the roar of the engine and the pounding of my heart.
Igor takes the lead, his SUV tearing down the road like a bat out of hell. Ari’s right behind him, his massive frame barely fitting behind the wheel.
“Come on, you bastards,” I mutter under my breath. “Just a little longer.”
But Ivan’s men are like a pack of wolves, hungry for blood. They swarm around us, trying to force us off the road, to trap us in a web of steel and fire.
“Damnit, they’re everywhere!” Misha shouts, ducking back inside as a bullet whizzes past his head.
I grit my teeth, swerving to avoid a hail of gunfire. “We’ve got to shake them, now!” An unexpected pothole sends us veering, the vehicle barely under control. “Hold on!” I shout as we skid, the world tilting wildly. In the chaos, a plan forms—risky, insane, but it’s all we’ve got.
I floor it, the engine roaring as we push the limits of speed and control. Bullets crack the rear window, sending shards of glass flying.
Up ahead, Igor swerves to avoid a hail of gunfire, his vehicle careening off the road and into the darkness.
“Blyad!” I curse, my heart sinking. We can’t stop, can’t turn back.
