Chapter 28 Raine
Raine
The bridge loomed out of the rain, a narrow strip of concrete barely holding against the flood. Water lapped at its edges, spray shooting high with every crash of the current. One wrong move and the Jeep would be swallowed whole.
Boone’s knuckles were white on the wheel. “Hold on.”
I braced against the dash as the Jeep hit the bridge. The tires screamed, slipping on the slick surface. The whole span shuddered beneath us, a deep groan of steel and concrete.
Behind us, the van roared onto the bridge, headlights glaring like twin predators in the storm. Gunfire erupted, bullets sparking off the guardrails, ricocheting too close.
“Get down!” I shouted, throwing myself half over the boy and his mother in the back. A round punched through the rear side window, glass exploding into the night.
Boone jerked the wheel, fighting to keep us centered. The Jeep fishtailed, one tire riding the lip of the crumbling concrete. My stomach lurched as the current surged just feet below.
“They’re ramming us!” Boone barked.
I twisted back in time to see the van accelerate, slamming into our rear bumper. The impact jolted through my bones, the Jeep skidding sideways with a screech of metal. My shoulder hit the door hard enough to blur my vision.
“No—no, no, no!” Boone gritted, wrenching the wheel, engine howling as he tried to recover.
The bridge groaned again, louder this time, echoing like thunder. Cracks spiderwebbed across the concrete under our headlights.
“Raine!” Boone’s shout ripped through the chaos.
I looked back—the van was surging forward for another hit, its masked driver locked on us, relentless.
We had seconds. Maybe less.
“Hold tight!” I screamed, to the people in the back seat as Boone slammed the gas.
The Jeep surged forward—
—and the bridge gave way.
The world dropped out from under us.