Someone was trying to break in.

“Hold on,” Dante said.

He slammed the gear shift into reverse.

The heavy tires spun against the wet concrete of the garage floor, throwing up a cloud of white smoke.

The SUV surged backward.

The reinforced steel bumper hit the rolling garage doors with a deafening crash.

Metal shrieked and buckled under the impact.

Two men in dark jackets stood in the alleyway, instantly caught in the bright red glow of our backup lights.

One of them raised a heavy black handgun, aiming directly at our windshield.

Dante did not hesitate.

He shifted the gear into drive and floored the accelerator.

The engine roared, and the armored vehicle propelled us forward, breaking through the ruined remains of the metal doors.

We burst into the freezing rain.

The trailer behind us swayed slightly, but the hitch held firm.

I gripped the passenger door handle, my heart hammering against my ribs.

In the side mirror, I saw the two men scrambling out of our path, diving toward a parked sedan.

“Are you hurt?” Dante asked, his eyes locked on the narrow, dark alley ahead.