Before Victor could shift the gear, a heavy thud shook the rear of our SUV.

We had been hit from behind.

The radio exploded with static and shouting.

“We’re boxed in!” Leon’s voice screamed. “They hit us from the side alley!”

Through the windshield, I saw the doors of the delivery truck swing open.

Men in dark clothing stepped out into the pouring rain.

They were carrying short, black rifles.

“Get down!” Damiano yelled.

He grabbed my shoulder, pulling me down toward the floorboards.

The first spray of bullets hit the armored glass with a series of sharp, deafening cracks.

The glass webbed with white lines, but it did not shatter.

“Victor, push through!” Damiano roared.

Victor slammed his foot on the gas.

The tires spun on the wet asphalt, smoking and screeching.

Another heavy impact hit the side of our vehicle, shoving us toward the brick wall of a warehouse.

The metal groaned.

My phone, lying on the seat above me, lit up with a incoming call.

The screen flashed Marcus’s name into the darkness of the floorboards.