Chapter 54 – MAKSIM
Fifty-Four
MAKSIM
“Goddamn it!”
I ram my fist into the wheel until my knuckles bleed. My phone is in my hand, Valentina’s name burning across the screen, but it goes straight to voicemail. Of course it does. No answer. So I try again. Two, three more times. Same result.
“Fuck,” I roar, flooring it toward where I saw her last. “Why would you do this to me, Kolibri?”
I pound the wheel again, feeling desperate, enraged, and so fucking helpless. Those men aren’t just pieces of shit street racers. They’re something more. And when I find out who they are, where they stay, not a single one will be left standing.
Another unanswered phone call makes my heart lurch, but just as city lights smear ahead of me, I hear it. The distant, beautiful wail of a Supra. My jaw tightens, and I bite down the urge to kill and instead aim to find her first.
“Pick up. Pick up, goddamn it!” I jab the screen one more time, and her voice comes through, ragged. “Maksim, I'm sorry. But I have to do this.”
“Do what, Valentina?” I hiss. “What the fuck are you trying to do by yourself?”
She draws a long, hard breath. “This is bigger than tonight. It was set up. All of it. Starting from the garage.”
“Either way, you running off alone, trying to get yourself killed, doesn’t help anyone.”
I hear tires screeching over the line, and I know she’s still in pursuit.
“If we lose them, we may never get another chance. Not before they get us first.”
I thread my M8 through traffic, taking gaps other drivers don’t see, and spot her a few hundred feet ahead, weaving and cutting lanes.
I call her name, “Valentina—”
But she cuts me off and answers with four words that make my blood stop, “Maksim, I love you.”
The line goes dead.
She pulls up beside the dark Porsche, and fires through her passenger side, shattering the glass. But doesn't let up until she has to. Valentina jerks the Supra hard, barely missing a delivery truck that’s blocking part of the lane.
My heart is in my fucking throat.
Traffic slows as drivers slam their brakes, chaos spreading through the street. But I don’t stop. I shove my way through, clip a sedan, send a minivan into the side rail, then hit the gas and break away.
Just a few more feet.
Out of nowhere, a second Porsche tears past me, sliding through an opening before I can. It pulls up alongside Valentina’s driver’s side window and, without warning, begins to fire. Relentless rounds tear through her doors and shatter her windows, making the Supra jerk under the assault.
I frantically punch the screen, calling her again. “Come on, come on, answer—”
She picks up on the third ring and blurts out, “I’m fine.” But I catch the shake in her voice.
“The hell you are,” I snap, as I cut around a stalled truck. “Are you hit? Did he get you? Are you bleeding?” My questions come quick and desperate.
“No, I'm good. I promise.”
I grind my teeth, foot on the gas, almost closing the gap. “Valentina, I swear to God.” I watch her like a hawk, scanning for any wobble or any sign she’s lying.
But she threads through the congestion as clean and smooth as ever. And I let out a rough breath of relief. “When I get my hands on you, I’m going to redden that fucking ass. Just wait.”
Her laugh is frail, hollow.
“I can’t wait.”
The first car suddenly peels off and slams a U-turn, ripping past me the wrong way into traffic before disappearing onto an exit ramp. But the second one keeps pushing, closing in, engine snarling as it fights to stay on her flank.
“You do what you do best, baby. I’m going to get them off you.”
With an elbow on the wheel, I eject my mag and slam in a new one.
“Maksim, I’m sorry. Remi was—”
“I know. Just try to shake them. I’m coming.”
Silence fills the line, just the sound of her breathing. But it’s all I need for now. Soon this will all be over. She'll be home with me, in my bed and arms, where she belongs.
And safe.
Valentina brakes suddenly when a white SUV cuts her off, forcing her to drift beneath an eighteen-wheeler. The Supra sings as she keeps it steady, holding her speed before sliding out clean on the other side.
My whole body clenches.
Fuck.
“Did you see that?” she asks, breathless, almost as shocked as I am.
“Woman, you have no idea how fucking sexy you look when you drive like a goddamn maniac.”
Her laugh breaks something open inside of me, and every feeling I’ve ever tried to bury shoves its way to the surface.
I love her.
I fucking love her.
And she needs to know it.
“Valentina—”
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 low across 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.
She’s still. Too fucking still.
You’re not dead.
I saw through the seatbelt, lungs screaming for air, and pull her free. But even as my chest feels ready to cave, I kick until we break the surface and drag us both to shore.
“Fuck…Come on, baby.” I roll her onto her back, and my heart stutters to a stop at the sight of her blue lips. “Valentina, wake up.” My voice breaks. “You have to wake up.”
I start compressions, but every push into her chest takes something from me. My vision swims, the edges going dark.
But I shake it off…
“You’re not dying here. Not like this.”
I press harder, more steady compressions until my hands begin sliding across her chest, too slick and sticky. For a second, I think it’s just river water, then look down, and it's darker, thicker.
Blood. My blood.
“Wait for me, baby. I love you.” My palms frame her face, staining her skin red. “Do you hear me…I fucking love you.”
I kiss her cold, blood-stained lips, then slowly pull back for another round of CPR. But the world’s already fading. She blurs, and my arms give out.
I fall, hitting the dirt beside her, mouth and nose full of mud.
And then there’s nothing.