Page 140 of Scarred Angel

But my words die when the Porsche clips her rear and spins her sideways, slamming her into the curb. The Supra launches into the air, flipping twice like a scene straight out of a fucking movie before disappearing over the railing.

“NO! No, no, no…”

I wrench the wheel, tires burning asphalt as I skid across the shoulder, doubling back toward the embankment, my heart in my throat.

Tears I haven’t cried in years push behind my eyes when I see her car, upside down in the river, sinking fast.

And she’s nowhere.

“Come on, baby. Don’t do this. Don’t you fucking do this.”

I shove the door open and spill out, boots hitting the ground. My headlights cut through the dark, illuminating the black water…

Then reality hits me with the force of a bomb. I can’t move because my mind drifts to another time, a time when I'm too weak and vulnerable. Where Pyotr's hands are forcing my head down, lungs burning, as the silence closes in.

My knees buckle before I can catch myself.

“No,” I growl, shaking my head hard, forcing the breath back into my chest. “I’m not there anymore. Not there. He can't hurt me...He's dead.He’s. Dead.”

Valentina needs me. I won’t let her down.

I barely make it two steps before gunfire forces me back. Rounds hit my car, and I drop behind the frame, squeezing off a few shots, hoping one lands.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” My voice cracks as I glance toward the river.

Her car’s almost gone.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I told her I’d protect her. I fucking promised.

Tears claw up my throat. Valentina is the reason I’d kill without hesitation and die without regret. But if I die now, so does she. And I refuse to let this be our end.

With a heavy growl, I pop off more rounds until my Glock clicks empty. The sound is hollow and final, taking with it my last sliver of hope.

I sag against the car and drag in a ragged breath. That’s when I feel it—burning, pain, and wet. Blood slips through my fingers, but I can’t bring myself to care. Not when my whole heart—my girl—is out there dying. Leaving me before I could tell her that I love her. That she made me feel again, made me want things I never thought I could have…or deserve.

I lift my gaze just in time to see the last tire sink beneath the surface.

“No! You don’t get to die on me,” I choke out.

The gunfire cuts off, leaving only the wail of sirens and horns in the distance. He’s reloading. And it’s my one chance.

I push up from behind the car and hurl the empty Glock. It cracks across his face and folds him into the dirt. I charge forward, but he’s faster than I expect. His mag locks in, and bullets tear through the air, ripping into my forearm and lowacross my side. I grit my teeth and shove the pain into the background.

He takes another aim, but I shoulder into him and drive him down. We hit hard, dirt and blood mixing, the gun knocked from his grasp. He scrabbles for it until my fist connects with his jaw, and his head snaps.

“You motherfucker.”

I rip the black mask off and almost lose my balance at the face beneath.

Alina. My goddamn secretary.

She throws her hands up to shield herself, and I see the scorpion tattoo as she flinches. A hundred theories spike in my head and die just as quickly. There’s no time for them. No time to break her, no time to choke the life out of her and ask why.

I drive my blade up beneath her chin, and she jerks once, then stills, arms falling back to the dirt. The world narrows to the sound of my own breathing and the wet hush where motion has stopped.

Valentina.

Cold water crashes over me as I dive in. Every muscle burns as I fight my way down, kicking through black water and debris. It’s murky—nothing but silt and shadow—until my hand slams against metal. I feel along the frame, find the shattered passenger window, and shove my arms through. My fingers brush skin.