Midnight Lies (Tasarov Bratva 2)

In her place is nothing but open road. And up ahead, the overpass. The cement pillar. It’s a lighter color than the rest of the bridge now. It had to be repaired after the accident.

And then Sofia is ahead of me again. I’m back in the clutches of that day.

I see her car fishtail, slowly at first and then faster and faster and faster, and she slams on the brakes, leaving long black streaks across the road, but it’s not enough, or it’s too much, and either way it doesn’t matter, because that’s when the tires seize up and stopping is no longer possible and death is ahead and then CRASH she hits the bridge with a sickening, crunching sound like a clap of thunder tearing my world in two.

I remember how I pulled over to try and help her. Smoke was pouring out of the hood of her car, spiraling up into the blue sky, blotting out the sky. I pulled her out, through twisted metal that smoked and screamed in protest.

But she was already gone.

“Are you okay?” Stefan asks again.

My heart is pounding in my chest. The pain in my shoulder pulses along with it.

I cling to that pain. It’s the only thing keeping me from falling headlong into my memories. It’s the only thing keeping me tethered to the present.

“I’m fine,” I growl. “Stop asking stupid questions and tell me where to go.”

“You already know where to go, Adrik,” Stefan sighs.

He’s right. So I press down on the gas and speed under the bridge, leaving it all behind me.

A past I cannot change fades away in the rearview mirror.

Ahead of me is a future I cannot fail.

Sofia died that day. But Emery isn’t gone. Not yet. My wife is still alive, and I’m going to get her back.

The road angles up into that bright blue sky. As we crest the hill, I can see the highway unfolding ahead.

And on it, like a silver beetle scurrying away, I can see Malcolm Waters’s car.

“There he is.”

Before the words are even out of my mouth, a bullet pings off the armored body of our car. They’re firing at us.

Stefan curses and messages the men driving behind us. Then he pulls out his weapon.

“We need to get closer,” he says. “Or find a way to slow them down. I could shoot out one of the tires, but—”

More shots ricochet off the car, leaving behind nasty dents.

“What’s the call here, Adrik?” Stefan is bouncing in his seat, adrenaline pumping. He’s nervous, but Stefan lives for this shit. He has always loved a fight.

“Take out the back tire, but don’t shoot at the windows,” I order him. “We just need to stop the car. Don’t aim to kill.”

He nods and rolls down his window.

I’m going fast enough that wind pours into the cabin, making my ears pop and drowning out all other sound. Stefan is an incredible shot, though. It only takes two tries for him to hit the back right tire of the car.

“Got it!” he crows just as Waters’s car begins to swerve.

The rubber rips away from the rim and flies to the shoulder of the road. As soon as the hubcap hits the road, the car starts to spin.

I see it happen in slow motion. Two timelines melting together.

The SUV in front of me carrying Emery blends with the small white sports car Sofia was driving that day. The images flash back and forth like an optical illusion. The first is the second and the second is first, Sofia is Emery and Emery is Sofia and they’re one and the same and I’m not sure what’s real and what isn’t anymore.

The car spins until it’s perpendicular to the road, skidding sideways.

And then it rolls.

“Blyat’!” I roar. I slam on the brakes so I don’t ram into the underside of it.

The SUV tips onto its side and keeps skidding, sliding, tumbling down into the ditch.

I rip the car over to the shoulder and slam the brakes. Stefan is out and on his feet immediately. He drops to one knee, taking up a shielded position behind his open door.

I think, Fuck that, and start sprinting for the wreckage.

“Adrik!” Stefan calls. “Don’t—”

But it’s too late. I’m already halfway there. Behind me, I hear him curse and then the crunch of gravel beneath his feet as he follows me.

I’m midway between our car and the smoking wreck when the front door flings open and one of the Volandri men crawls out of the car.

“Fucking hell,” Stefan groans from a few yards back. He drops low and fires, hitting the man square in the chest.

The man might be wearing armor, but the shot stuns him nonetheless. He flops down into the torn-up hulk of the car like a sick game of Whack-A-Mole.

Then another black-clad figure emerges. I take this one out myself, shooting him in the leg before he can find his footing. Stefan fires at the same time.

The man groans and clutches at his stomach. Blood pours through his interlaced fingers. Then he drops down into the grass and doesn’t move anymore.

“Where is she?” I say to myself. “Where the fuck is—”

Just as the words leave my mouth, I see her head pop up out of the shattered window of the backseat.

The glass in her hair catches the sunlight, glinting like diamonds. I can see a fresh streak of blood down her face.

But she’s okay. She’s alive.

Thank fucking God.

Then Malcolm Waters appears behind her with a gun in his hand.

“Fire again and I'll kill her!” Malcolm yells.