136
The real chase had just begun. The car jolted forward as Dominic slammed his foot on the gas, the tires screeching so loudly it sent a sharp pulse through my skull. The force of the sudden acceleration threw me back against the seat, my arms instinctively tightening around Adam as his cries turned into full-blown shrieks. His tiny fingers dug into my skin, his body trembling violently, but I couldn’t even comfort him properly because the car swerved hard to the right, and I had to brace myself to keep from slamming into the door. The street outside blurred, everything moving too fast, too violently, like the world had turned into a whirlwind.
We barely missed a fruit stand, the metal wheels screeching against the pavement as Dominic yanked the car to the side. The wooden cart shattered apart on impact, sending apples and oranges flying like grenades. The owner, an elderly man in a tattered gray coat, had just enough time to dive out of the way before the remains of his stall splintered into the street. I saw him stumble as he fell, his hands scraping against the rough ground, his mouth open in a silent yell of shock.
Before I could even process that, Dominic swerved again, clipping a parked bicycle and sending it tumbling into a pile of stacked crates outside a corner store. The crates exploded open, spilling vegetables everywhere—potatoes rolling under panicked pedestrians' feet, lettuce leaves flying into the air like confetti. A woman carrying a shopping bag screamed, dropping everything as she jumped back. The bag burst open, cans of soup and soda rolling into the gutter.
Dominic didn’t stop. He couldn't.
Another turn sent us barreling down a narrow street, and the side mirror clipped a table where a group of teenagers had been eating takeout. Their food went flying, noodles and sauce splattering across the windshield of a parked car. One of the boys jumped back, knocking over a chair, while another cursed, waving a fist at us as we sped past.
I could hear the cops now, the distant sound of sirens weaving through the chaos. The sound made my skin prickle, made my stomach twist, because they were coming for us, and they were getting closer.
“Dominic, slow the fuck down!” I screamed over the roar of the engine, my voice barely registering in my own ears.
“I’m trying to keep us from getting caught!” he shot back, gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles turned white.
Another sharp turn. The car fishtailed, nearly slamming into a parked motorcycle. The owner cursed, throwing his hands up as we sped past. Tina was laughing. Actually laughing. I looked at her, her head pressed against the seat, her lips twisted into a bloody grin. The seatbelt dug into her torso, keeping her strapped in, but every sharp movement made her wince. Blood streamed between her fingers where she clutched her side, soaking through her clothes, dripping onto the seat. Her laughter cracked into a pained gasp as the car lurched again, throwing her forward before the belt yanked her back. She cursed under her breath, muttering something in her language, her forehead slick with sweat.
The whole car rattled as Dominic pushed the speed higher, weaving through traffic like a madman. Honks blared. People screamed. My hands fumbled for the seatbelt, my fingers shaking as I tried to buckle my son in. The car jerked, throwing me sideways. My head slammed into the window. Dizziness swept through me, and for a second, the street outside looked different. It wasn’t New York anymore. It was something else, somewhere else. A nightmare I had already lived.
Central Park was a mess of flashing lights and rushing bodies, people scattering as Dominic tore through it, cutting across walkways and grassy patches. The wheels skidded over dirt, sending up a storm of dust. A hotdog stand went flying. The vendor barely managed to jump out of the way before the cart was crushed under the tires. I could see the terror in people’s faces as we swerved between them, their hands grabbing at their loved ones, pulling them out of harm’s way.
Then we were back on the road. The open street stretched ahead, but behind us, the sirens grew louder, closer. The flashing red and blue lights reflected in the rearview mirror, the NYPD closing in fast. My stomach twisted. There was no getting out of this if they caught us. No explaining our way out of a high-speed chase through the middle of the city.
Dominic’s voice cut through the noise. “Buckle up. Now.” His gaze flickered to Tina, her face pale, sweat dripping down her temple. “Sorry in advance.”
Tina let out a ragged breath, giving him a weak nod. “Do what you gotta do.”
The car surged forward, the force slamming me against the seat. The engine roared as Dominic shifted gears, threading through traffic with barely an inch to spare between us and the other vehicles. My pulse pounded in my ears. My son was crying so hard his body shook, his little fists gripping my shirt. My own breath was ragged, my fingers trembling as I brushed his hair back, whispering to him, trying to calm him, but I wasn’t sure if I was comforting him or myself.
A police cruiser swerved in front of us, trying to cut us off. Dominic yanked the wheel to the left. The car tilted, tires screeching as we barely slipped past the block. My head snapped to the side, catching a glimpse of the cops through the window. Their faces were set, focused, determined to take us down. They weren’t backing off.
Dominic took another sharp turn, nearly tipping the car, sending us flying through an intersection. Horns blared. I caught a flash of headlights barreling straight toward us. My scream got caught in my throat. Dominic spun the wheel. The car twisted, missing the oncoming truck by a heartbeat, the air so tight around us I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
“Dominic!” I screamed again, clutching my son tighter.
“Almost there!” he gritted out.
I didn’t know where there was. I just knew we weren’t stopping. The sirens were deafening now, so close it felt like they were inside my skull. Tina groaned, her fingers pressing harder against her wound, her breath coming in short, pained gasps. The seatbelt was digging into her waist so hard it had to be bruising her. She winced, biting back another groan.
Another sharp turn. A barricade ahead. More cops closing in. No way out.
Dominic muttered something under his breath, his grip tightening on the wheel.
And then, with a roar of the engine, he gunned it straight toward them.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
