Chapter 19 Raine
Raine
The road narrowed into a strip of cracked asphalt, trees closing in on either side. Water pooled ankle-deep across the surface, splashing against the undercarriage with every bump. Boone drove like the devil was on our tail—because he probably was.
The boy’s hand trembled in mine. His mother kept whispering prayers in Spanish, voice thin with exhaustion. Every word twisted tighter around my chest.
“Almost clear,” Boone muttered, leaning forward over the wheel. His grin was gone now, replaced by that tight, razor-edge focus I recognized from men who’d been in too many battles. “We should be getting close to help soon.”
I nodded, but unease gnawed at me. My gut had been screaming since the headlights crested the ridge back at the vans. Something didn’t feel right.
The first hint came in the rearview mirror—two pinpricks of light on the horizon, too steady to be stars.
Boone cursed under his breath. “Damn it. We’ve got company.”
The boy whimpered. His mother pulled him into the back seat and held him close.
I tightened my grip on the rifle across my lap. “How close?”
“Closer every second,” Boone said grimly. “They’ve got better suspension and more horsepower than this old beast.”
The lights grew, bouncing hard with every dip in the road, engines growling louder.
My pulse hammered. “If they catch us—”
“They won’t.” Boone jerked the wheel, sending us down a washed-out service road, branches slapping against the Jeep’s sides. “But you’d better be ready, Carter. Because if they get close enough, we’re fighting.”
I braced myself against the door, rifle steady, eyes locked on the mirror.
The lights swerved with us, refusing to fade.
They were hunting us.