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

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

“Do not touch it,” Damiano said, his voice low and strained.

He reached down, his fingers brushing mine as he grabbed his weapon from his jacket.

Outside, another burst of gunfire rattled the frame of the SUV.

The armored glass of the driver’s side window spiderwebbed with white cracks.

Victor slammed the gear shift into reverse.

The transmission ground with a horrible screech, but the car barely moved.

“We’re wedged against the wall, sir!” Victor shouted, his hands turning the steering wheel violently.

A sudden blast from the rear shattered the back windshield.

Cold rain and glass shards showered over the back seats, stinging my neck.

I tucked my knees tighter against my chest, covering my head with my arms.

“Leon!” Damiano barked into his radio. “Status!”

Only static answered him, followed by the distant sound of rapid gunfire and a scream.

“Leon is down,” Damiano muttered.

He looked down at me, his dark eyes intense beneath the shadows of his brows.