Chapter 2: part 2

“Keep it steady,” she shouted, her voice nearly lost to the gale as she leaned out, the cold metal of the doorframe biting into her hip. The first shot cracked through the night, a sharp report that split the silence, her aim honed despite the Chevy’s jolting sway. The lead SUV’s windshield erupted in a spiderweb of fractures, silver glinting in the moonlight, but it didn’t falter—didn’t even slow. A hooded figure leaned out its passenger side, the black robe billowing like a shroud, aiming something back—a glint of steel, a promise of death.

“Gun!” Silas barked, his voice a raw edge of alarm as he swerved, the Chevy fishtailing wildly. Bullets pinged off the tailgate, a staccato hail that shattered the rear window in a glittering cascade of glass. Mara ducked, shards raining down her back, slicing shallow lines into her skin, and fired again, her wrist jarring with the recoil. This time, the SUV veered, its tires shrieking against the asphalt in a desperate wail, but the second one surged forward, its headlights flooding the cab with a blinding glare.

“They’re not quitting,” she growled, reloading with shaking fingers, the coppery scent of her own blood mingling with the gunpowder’s acrid bite. Crimson dripped down her arm, pooling on the seat in dark, glistening stains, each drop a tick of time she couldn’t spare.

“They don’t.” Silas’s voice was grim, a low rumble beneath the chaos, his eyes flicking to her wound with a flicker of something—concern, maybe, or calculation. “You’re losing too much.”

“I’ll live.” She gritted her teeth, forcing the words through the pain, and aimed again, her vision blurring at the edges. The road dipped suddenly, a treacherous rut jolting the Chevy hard, and her shot went wide, pinging uselessly off the asphalt. The SUVs split with chilling precision, flanking them now, their hulking forms boxing the Chevy into a tightening noose. Her pulse hammered, a frantic rhythm against her ribs, the air thick with the metallic tang of fear she refused to name. “Plan?”

Silas’s smirk returned, a dangerous, reckless curve that bared the tips of his fangs, glinting like polished ivory in the dashboard’s faint glow. “Ever play chicken?”

Before she could spit a protest, he yanked the wheel with a savage twist, aiming the Chevy straight for the left SUV. Mara cursed, a litany of filth spilling from her lips as she braced herself against the dash, her boots slamming the floorboard. The gap closed in a heartbeat—fifty yards of asphalt shrinking to twenty, then ten, the SUV’s grille a looming maw of black steel and death. Her breath locked in her throat, the world narrowing to the roar of engines and the wild thud of her heart. The cultist driver flinched first, a panicked jerk of the wheel sending the SUV careening off-road in a billowing cloud of dust and sand, its headlights spinning into the void.

Silas laughed, a jagged, untamed sound that cut through the tension like a blade, and floored it past the wreck, the Chevy surging forward with a triumphant growl. The second SUV rammed them from behind, a bone-jarring crunch of metal that snapped Mara’s head forward, pain exploding behind her eyes. She twisted, ignoring the flare in her skull, and emptied her clip into its grille, the .38 barking in her hand. Steam hissed, a scalding plume erupting from the hood, and the SUV fell back, its engine choking out in a plume of smoke and ruin.

Silas took a sharp turn off the highway, the Chevy bouncing over the rough, unforgiving terrain, its headlights carving jagged beams through the night. Sand and rock rattled against the undercarriage, a relentless drumbeat, as the desert swallowed them whole, the highway’s thin thread vanishing behind a curtain of dust. He slowed at last, the engine’s roar softening to a weary sputter, and the silence rushed back, heavy and expectant, broken only by the faint tick of cooling metal.

“They’ll regroup,” he said, his voice steady but laced with a taut edge, his hands still gripping the wheel as if expecting the chase to reignite. “We need a hole to crawl into.”

Mara slumped back, her chest heaving, each breath a ragged scrape against her raw throat. Her arm was a dull, throbbing roar, the blood-soaked bandage a sodden weight against her skin, and exhaustion clawed at her edges, threatening to drag her under. She turned her head, meeting his gaze—those gray eyes, unreadable yet piercing, holding secrets she wasn’t sure she wanted to unravel. “You’d better know where you’re going, vampire.”

He held her stare, the faintest flicker of something—amusement, defiance—curling the corner of his mouth. “I always do.”

The Chevy rolled on, swallowed by the desert’s vast, merciless embrace, the night stretching ahead like a predator lying in wait. Mara’s fingers tightened around her empty gun, the cold metal a lifeline, her mind a storm of distrust and survival instinct. She’d escaped one trap, but with Silas at her side, she couldn’t shake the feeling she’d stumbled into another—one she might not outrun.