The SUV's tires screeched against the wet concrete as Damian floored the gas pedal, hands slippery on the wheel. One hand was bleeding badly, the other struggling to keep control. Smoke trailed behind them, mingling with the rain.
Elena crouched low in the seat, heart hammering in her chest. Glass shards glittered on the floor by her knees. Her fingers gripped the edge of the seat so tightly they ached.
“Is anyone following us?” she shouted over the wind and engine.
Damian checked the rearview mirror, eyes scanning for headlights or shadows. “Not yet. But they will. That explosion won’t hold them for long.”
“You’re bleeding—your hand, your shoulder—Damian, you’re hurt.”
“I know.”
She looked at him—face clenched, blood running down his arm, knuckles white against the wheel. The windsh
