Killian cursed under his breath, his teeth grinding as he fought to keep his anger in check. One hand gripped the steering wheel tight, his body jerking to the right as he swerved, barely avoiding a car that suddenly slowed down in front of him. With a swift motion, his left hand yanked a pistol from the holster at his waist. No hesitation, he swung it out the window and fired off two shots at the motorcycle chasing him.
"Hope your reflexes are still sharp enough to dodge this, sweetheart."
The gunshots cracked through the night air, loud, sharp, like a whip of death. But Vischa was already ahead of him. Her body twisted on the bike, fluid and graceful, like water flowing around a jagged rock. With the agility of a street dancer, she veered onto the sidewalk, living on the edge of danger
