110. THE CRASH

KATERINA

Before I could respond, he gunned the engine, the car surging forward with a sudden burst of speed. I grabbed the edge of my seat, adrenaline spiking as we wove through the sparse traffic, the city lights blurring past. I looked back again, expecting to see the car fade into the distance, but they were still there, sticking to us like glue.

“Vincent,” I warned, my voice tight with nerves, “they’re not backing off.”

“I know,” he said calmly, his eyes never leaving the road. His voice had that low, dangerous edge to it that both thrilled and terrified me. He was enjoying this, the chase, the game. I watched as he took a sudden, sharp turn onto a side street, tires screeching against the asphalt.

The car behind us followed, barely missing the turn, and I felt a twisted sense of satisfaction at the way they struggled to keep up. Vincent’s hands tightened on the wheel, his eyes flicking to the mirror again, calculating, plotting.

“Hold on,” he said, and before I could ask why, he