Chapter 3 - The Highway Hunt
Rain came down in sheets so dense that the windshield wipers of Rachel Sloan’s modest Audi sedan couldn't keep up. The rubber blades shrieked against the glass as Natalie braced herself against the dashboard, her breathing shallow and ragged.
""They're coming up on the left!"" Natalie yelled, glancing into the side mirror.
A heavy black Cadillac Escalade surged forward through the spray, its high beams blinding in the rearview mirror. It deliberately clipped the Audi’s rear quarter panel. The smaller car fishtailed violently across the slick asphalt of the FDR Drive, tires screaming against the wet pavement before Rachel fought the steering wheel and regained traction near the 23rd Street exit.
""Rachel, don't stop!"" Natalie cried, one arm wrapped protectively over her stomach. A sharp, pulling cramp tore through her lower abdomen, making her gasp.
""I’m not stopping!"" Rachel shouted, white-knuckling the wheel. ""Where are the police? I dialed 911 four times before we lost service!""
""Sebastian owns the precinct commander in this sector,"" Natalie said through clenched teeth, fighting off a wave of nausea. ""They won't respond to an erratic driver report on the FDR for at least twenty minutes. That was part of the Kingsbridge logistics annex. I saw the payroll sheets two weeks ago.""
The realization hit Natalie with sickening clarity. Every piece of corruption she had meticulously cataloged in her neat spreadsheets was now playing out in real time against her own flesh and blood. The city wasn't broken; it was operating precisely as the Russo-Vieri syndicate had engineered it to operate.
Behind them, the Escalade dropped back slightly, making room for a second SUV that accelerated sharply along their passenger side. They were boxing them in, preparing to force the Audi into the reinforced concrete barrier lining the East River.
""Hold on!"" Rachel screamed.
The second SUV swerved inward, metal grinding against metal with a deafening screech that sent sparks flying into the rain. The passenger window shattered, showering Natalie with safety glass pellets. Cold wind and water tore into the cabin.
Natalie squeezed her eyes shut, pressing herself back into the seat. Please, she prayed silently, her hands clutched over her womb. Please, just let her survive this.
Suddenly, out of the darkness behind them, a roar like a low-flying jet engine cut through the storm.
A matte-grey armored Mercedes G-Wagon emerged from the downpour at over eighty miles per hour. It didn't tap the brakes. It slammed directly into the rear bumper of the lead Escalade with catastrophic force. The impact lifted the Escalade’s back tires off the pavement, sending the three-ton vehicle spinning wildly across three lanes of traffic before it slammed broadside into an overhead sign stanchion, crumpling like an accordion.
Natalie opened her eyes.
Through the shattered passenger window, through the blinding rain and headlights, she saw the Mercedes pull alongside them. The tinted window lowered two inches.
Gabriel was behind the wheel.
His face was pale, his jaw set like carved granite, his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that took the air straight out of her lungs. There was no arrogance in his posture, no triumphant smirk of an untouchable billionaire arriving to collect his prize. There was only absolute, feral terror.
He motioned sharply with his hand: Keep moving.
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Behind the Mercedes, three more vehicles belonging to Sebastian Vieri emerged from the mist. Gabriel didn't follow the Audi to safety. Instead, he yanked his wheel violently to the right, throwing his massive vehicle horizontally across all three lanes of the southbound FDR, creating an impenetrable barricade between Natalie and the men sent to execute her.
""Rachel,"" Natalie whispered, her voice breaking as she watched the rearview mirror. ""He's staying.""
