Unable to stay still, I rise up on my knees again . . . and my lungs cease working.

On the road ahead of us, just a few hundred feet away, is a police blockade—and we’re barreling toward it at race-car speed.

34

Julian

The cold, rational part of my mind instantly registers two things: there’s nowhere for us to turn, and the four police cars blocking our way are surrounded by men wearing SWAT gear.

They were expecting us—which means they’re in Sullivan’s pocket and here to kill us all.

The thought fills me with terrified rage. I’m not afraid for myself, but the knowledge that Nora may die today, that I may never hold her again—

No. Fuck, no. Ruthlessly, I push the paralyzing thought aside and quickly assess the situation.

In less than twenty seconds, we’ll reach the police barricade. I know what Lucas intends: to ram into the two cars that have the widest gap between them. The gap is only two feet wide, but we’re going 120 miles an hour and the car is heavily armored, which means momentum is on our side.

All we need to do is survive the collision.

Gripping the grenade launcher in my right hand, I yell at Nora’s parents, “Brace yourselves!” and drop to the floor, surrounding Nora with my body.

A few seconds later, our limo slams into the police cars with bone-jarring force. I can hear Nora’s parents screaming, feel the inertia of the impact dragging me forward, and I tense every muscle in my body in an effort to stop the slide.

It works, barely. My left shoulder slams into the side of the seat, but I keep Nora safe underneath me. I have no doubt I’m crushing her with my weight, but it’s better than the alternative. I can hear the metallic ding of bullets hitting the side and windows of the car, and I know they’re firing at us.

If we were in a regular car, we’d already be riddled with holes.

As soon as I feel the limo speeding up again, I jump to my feet, noting out of the corner of my eye that Nora’s parents seem to have survived the impact. Tony is cradling his arm with a pained grimace, but Gabriela seems merely dazed.

I don’t have time to look closer, though. If we’re to have any chance of surviving this, we need to take care of Sullivan’s men, and we need to do it now.

The grenade launcher is still in my hand, so I press a button on the side of the door to activate the hidden opening in the roof. Then I stand up in the middle of the aisle, my head and shoulders sticking out of the car. Lifting the weapon, I point it at the cars pursuing us—which now include one police cruiser on top of the fifteen Sullivan vehicles.

No, thirteen Sullivan vehicles, I correct myself after doing a quick count. My men managed to take out two more of them in the last couple of minutes.