Chapter 73
Chapter Seventy-Three
Zac
Jordan and I run towards the second truck, guns firing. He’s faster than me these days, and I grit my teeth every time he glances back, making sure I’m still on his tail.
The passenger steps out, lifting his arm and firing.
Jordan jerks, and within less than a second, I aim, pull the trigger, and the Enforcer drops to the ground. Beside me, Jordan sucks in a breath, his face draining of colour. His hand flies to his upper arm and almost instantly, blood stains his fingers.
“Jordan!” I exclaim, panic tightening my chest as he stumbles. “Jordan—shit!”
I dive under his shoulder and with every ounce of strength I’ve recovered since Killmoor, hauling him back towards the grille of the truck as bullets ping off the metal around us. He groans as I shove him down.
Another shot rings out—too fucking close.
I whip around, raise my gun, and fire three times in rapid succession.
One Enforcer falls. The second stumbles. The third is still coming.
I fire again. He drops.
My hands are shaking.
“Hold on,” I say, grabbing Jordan’s uninjured arm. Peering around the edge of the truck at the empty road beyond, I curse under my breath. “Where the fuck are they?”
Jordan’s jaw is clenched tight, eyes squeezed shut. His hand is pressed tightly against his wound, blood staining every inch of skin. “They’ll… be here,” he says. “Zac, you need to keep moving.”
“No,” I snap. “I dragged you into this. I’m not leaving you.”
“Zac.” His voice shakes, but he blinks at me, eyes clear. “Get up. We can’t stop. We don’t have enough ammo to stay here.”
A bullet slams into the truck behind us, the one whose gaping doors stare mockingly at me, Emilia long gone. We both flinch as shouts from Enforcers grow louder.
I swallow, torn between wanting to leave Jordan here and trying to face them alone, but also knowing that he’ll likely be discovered and shot in no time.
Gritting my teeth, I shove my shoulder under his once more and pour my strength into wrenching us both up.
My knees shake, but I push and push until finally we’re standing.
There’s an Enforcer eight feet away, over the other side of the bonnet, and I fire as fast as I can, catching him with the element of surprise.
Another approaches only a few steps behind.
I aim.
The gun clicks, empty.
“Shit. Shit, hang on.” I duck us back behind the grille.
My shaky hand digs into my pocket, before shoving a new magazine in and slamming it home.
I wrap my arm around Jordan again, pulling us up and hauling us away from the protection of the bumper, past the metal body of the truck.
Jordan lifts his gun with his good arm and fires a shot.
It goes wide, shattering through a tree at the edge of the road. His hand trembles.
Six more Enforcers pour from behind the third truck, spreading out.
Within half a minute, my gun’s empty once more. We retreat, yanking the doors of the middle truck open and falling inside the bed. Jordan hauls one of the doors closed.
This truck’s empty, too.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
Jordan scoots back towards me. “They wouldn’t have left her in here for you to find. They abandoned ship the second we took out the first vehicle. She’ll be in that final truck.”
“I’m completely out of ammo,” I mutter, tucking the useless gun into my waistband as panic claws up my throat, so sharp and sudden that it’s suffocating. Fuck. Sweat slicks my palms, and I run them down my trousers. Think. Think, Zac.
I lurch for the divider, peering through the windscreen, past the first truck to the monstrous black thing that looms over the entire road—immovable and loaded.
“It’s a shipment of ammo. Needs delivering to Killmoor.” Yolanda’s orders echo through my mind, and a grin spreads across my face. Eyes wide, I spin back to Jordan. “I’ll go back to our truck. Everything we need is in there—”
“Zac, no,” Jordan snaps, voice pained but firm. “That’s a suicide mission. We don’t have time.”
“I can make it—”
He’s already shaking his head, pulling his gun free. “Here,” Jordan says, holding it out.
“Jordan—”
“All I keep doing is missing. We won’t make it back to the ammo without being killed,” he snaps.
A bullet ricochets off the side of the truck, and we flinch, ducking, but it doesn’t penetrate.
I relent, taking the gun. Taking a deep breath, I strengthen my hold on it and edge towards the open door, arm extended.
I’m barely able to peek through the open gap—taking in one, two, five, six Enforcers—before bullets pepper the metal doors and I scramble back, away from the firing range.
They’re already closing in. We’re trapped.
“Fuck,” I snap, voice strangled and hoarse. “Jordan, there’s too many. I can’t… Emilia… Shit!” The last word cracks.
I can’t save her.
I dragged Jordan here.
And now he’s bleeding beside me, waiting for the shot that ends his life, all because I thought we could beat the State at one of their cruel games.
“I’m sorry,” I choke, falling beside him, eyes tracing over the blood smeared across his black zip up jacket. “I’m so fucking sorry. I should never have—”
“Zac. Don’t be stupid.” His voice wavers, but the ferocity in his eyes is real. “You didn’t force me to help you.” He leans closer, grimacing as he does so. “I came here for the same reasons you would if it were Claudia.”
Before I can even swallow his words, another hail of bullets strikes the truck. Jordan squeezes his eyes shut, head slamming back against the metal. I press my blood smattered hands over my face.
We’re screwed with only a handful of shots left between us.
And Emilia still has no idea that we’re trying to save her.
We’re out of time.
Gunfire cracks so close that the reverberation off the metal makes my ears ring. I brace myself for the bullet—
But instead, a roar of engines explodes, followed by the screech of tyres. My eyes snap open, gaze darting to Jordan.
The sound of doors opening.
And then… gunfire.
A cacophony of shouts echo outside the van, and then footsteps tear away from us, towards the noise.
A weak smile tugs at the corner of Jordan’s mouth. “Told you.”
I stare at him, chest loosening. “Come on,” I say, before scooting to the end of the truck and peering out.
One Enforcer remains, gun trained on me, but his eyes are pinned on the chaos that’s no doubt unfolding beyond all of us.
I raise Jordan’s gun and fire. Before he’s even fallen, I grab Jordan and drag him upright.
He staggers but holds on, teeth gritted.
We stumble forward, half running and half falling towards the group tearing through the Enforcers.
“You’re late!” I snap the second we’re within earshot.
It’s Anna’s green eyes that meet mine from under her balaclava, turning just long enough to glare. “Only by thirty seconds,” she retorts.
“The convoy was early,” I shoot back, voice cracking.
“Not our fault,” she says, voice clipped before she ducks, avoiding a weak punch thrown by an Enforcer and plunging a knife into his gut.
“Jordan!” The cry tears through the air. Claudia breaks from the group, gun useless at her side as she throws herself forward. Jordan tries to lift his head, tries to give her a reassuring smile, but it’s nothing more than a grimace. I tighten my arm to keep him from collapsing.
Claudia’s hands grasp his cheeks, her eyes wild and panicked as she looks him over.
“Claud, I’m fine,” he murmurs. “It’s just a small—”
“Fucking hell, your arm!”
“Seriously, I’m okay—”
“Shut up!” she snaps.
Riley appears at her side, one hand gripping her shoulder as his eyes trail over us both. “Claudia, Heidi,” he calls out, voice loud and brash. “Get Jordan to the truck. Now.”
A small figure surges towards us, and the little mop of curls that peek from under a balaclava renders me speechless.
“Keep him awake,” Riley continues. “See if you can find out whether the bullet’s still inside and stop the bleeding as best you can.”
Claudia’s eyes are glassy, but she nods, slipping under Jordan’s good arm. Heidi rushes at me, taking the other side. Jordan opens his mouth to argue, but all that escapes is a hiss of pain. They haul him away, Claudia whispering something frantically under her breath.
A small surge of relief pools in my gut, and my gaze snaps to the others. They’re all masked, but I’m certain I spy Red, Carl, and Pete. And then, some I can’t recognise, but have a sinking feeling in my stomach after seeing the little dark-haired girl that they shouldn’t be here.
Sam.
And Rayden.
Armed and standing in the open, eyes darting back and forth, guns shaking in their grip.
A snarl rips out of me before I can stop it. “What the fucking hell are they doing here?”
The paler of the two steps forward. “Because we have something in common,” Rayden snaps.
“No, we don’t,” I reply, sharp and bitter. “We have nothing—”
“Alright, fellas,” Riley cuts in, far too lighthearted for someone standing in the middle of a shoot-out. “Let’s stay focused, yeah?” He claps a hand on my shoulder, then turns to the trucks, raising his gun, just as the third one roars to life.
The engine shudders and launches forward, wheels turning left, screeching across the tarmac in a violent arc. Everyone jerks back. The vehicle skids around the abandoned vehicles, running over bodies and hurtling towards the front of the convoy, towards where my truck blocks the road.
It slams to a stop, then turns, accelerating around the first truck before barreling straight back towards us.
An Enforcer leans out the passenger window, gun raised, firing wild and furious.
“Move!” someone yells.
We dive between bumpers and doors as bullets rain around us. Teeth clenched, jaw tighter than ever, I use adrenaline to fuel me, hauling Jordan’s gun up, pulling the trigger—
It clicks. Empty.
“Shit!”
Rayden’s beside me. I tear his gun from his hands.
“Hey!”
“Let someone who knows what they’re doing try, yeah?” I snap, already raising it, zeroing in on the passenger who’s taking aim at Riley. My bullet tears through the Enforcer’s shoulder, and he jerks back, disappearing from sight.
The truck whips past us, so close that the wind batters my face.
“Shit,” Sam yells.
One of Riley’s guys begins running. “Come on. We need to get to the trucks and follow—”
“No need,” Anna says.
We all snap towards her.
She’s already raised her gun, taking aim. Steady, eyes narrowed. A bolt of dread spears through me.
“Anna, no!” I shout, voice cracking. “Don’t—”
She fires.
The shot cuts through the air, a single crack that may as well be a bomb detonating in front of me.
The bullet hits the front tyre, and the truck jolts, the useless rubber wrenching it violently sideways. Tyres screech, and metal from the broken wheel sparks against the tarmac.
It swerves hard and my stomach drops.
“No—” The word tears through my lips.
The truck fishtails, sliding out of control. Everyone flinches as the vehicle tips, then slams onto its side with a heart-wrenching crunch.
“Emilia!” I shout, voice raw.