Lorenzo kept his eyes on Adrienne’s black Ferrari ahead of him. It cruised at a steady, almost polite speed, rain-slicked asphalt glinting beneath its tires. For a moment, he let himself breathe.
Then her taillights surged forward.
In seconds, the distance between them stretched. Another heartbeat, and her taillights were nothing but red slashes cutting through traffic.
“s**t,” Lorenzo muttered, slamming his foot down on the accelerator.
He floored it, the engine screaming in protest as he forced his way through the rain-slicked street. Cars blurred past. Horns blared. Someone shouted. None of it mattered. All he could see was her car slipping farther away.
He reached instinctively for his phone then froze.
They’d left the house with nothing.
No phones. No backup. No plan.
Just one
