The Crash

They left the motel ten minutes later. It wasn't fast enough.

As they pulled onto Route 9, a set of headlights blinded them from the opposite lane. A heavy truck swerved, blocking the road.

"Trap!" Leo yelled.

He slammed the brakes, spinning the wheel. The GTO drifted, tires screaming, but another SUV rammed them from behind.

The impact was massive. The GTO spun out of control, sliding off the wet asphalt and crashing through a wooden fence into a muddy field.

The airbags deployed, punching the breath out of Leo.

Dust and silence. Then, the ringing in his ears.

"Sofia?" he groaned.

"I'm... I'm okay," she gasped beside him.

Leo kicked his door open. He stumbled out into the mud. The GTO was totaled. The front end was crushed. His sanctuary, his freedom, was a twisted heap of metal.

Men were getting out of the SUVs. He saw flashlights. He saw guns.

Leo reached for his tire iron, but his arm hung uselessly at his side. Dislocated shoulder.

"Leo, stop," Sofia said. She was climbing out of the car. She held the hard drive in her hand.

"Get back in," Leo rasped. "I can..."

"You can't," she said softly. "Look at them. There are too many."

She walked past him. She walked toward the headlights.

"I surrender!" she screamed into the rain. "Don't shoot! I have the drive! I'm coming with you!"

"No!" Leo roared. He tried to lunge for her, but the pain in his shoulder dropped him to his knees in the mud.

"Let him go!" Sofia shouted at the approaching men. "Take me. Take the drive. But leave him. If you touch him, I destroy the drive right now!" She held it over a puddle of murky water.

The lead enforcer—one of Marco’s lieutenants—stopped. He signaled his men to lower their weapons.

"Deal," the lieutenant grunted. "Get in the car, sweetheart. Marco is waiting."

Sofia looked back at Leo. She didn't look sad. She looked fierce. She looked like she was going to war.

"Run," she mouthed.

Then she got into the black SUV. The doors slammed. The convoy turned around and sped off into the night, leaving Leo kneeling in the mud beside the wreckage of his life.

Leo stared at the taillights.

He felt the despair clawing at his throat. He had failed. He was weak. He was just a mechanic.

Then he looked at his hand. The star-shaped scar.

* Run.*

"No," Leo whispered.

He stood up. He grabbed his shoulder and shoved it back into the socket with a scream of agony that turned into a roar of rage.

He wasn't going to run. He was going to fix this.