The world flipped—literally.
The car jerked sideways, metal screeching as it tipped, then flipped. Once. Twice.
Glass shattered. The windshield spidered with cracks before bursting. Metal crumpled like paper, sparks flying as the car skidded across the asphalt. The roof craved slightly, the doors buckled, the force of each impact rattling bones and crushing breaths.
The airbags exploded into them.
Aslan's head snapped forward, then back against the headrest, his ears ringing so hard it was hard to register the world still ringing.
Fuck, was he going to die barely a week after he became Don? His father would probably be raging in his grave—well, coffin, since he wasn't buried yet. Not because he cared so greatly for his son, but because his death will make the Black Vile.
Aslan didn't give two shits about what his father might be or not. He might not want this life but that doesn't mean he wanted to die.
Fuck, this was a shitty way to die. That was all Kade could think of as the car rolled, broken glasses piercing his flesh in so many places, it was becoming annoying. This wasn't an iconic way to die. This was lame as well.
And Gloria. God, what was going to happen to her? What would Seth do to her once he heard Kade was no longer alive?
Kade didn't care about dying in a lame way anymore, all he cared about was his sister. His sweet, girl that deserved someone better than him for family. She was all he had left. How was she going to live?
Another flip. Another crash.
Then finally the car slammed onto its side, landing with a sickening crunch.
Silence.
Just their racing heartbeat, the distant ringing, the faint sound of dripping fluid, the slow hiss of something burning.
Aslan blinked against the blood streaming down his face. His arms felt like lead, his chest burning from the tightness of the seatbelt, and the airbag still pressed against him. He tasted iron.
He heard a groan beside him.
Everywhere burned. Everywhere ached. Kade thinks there were a few broken bones. His chest felt too tight, too heavy. Breathing was a damn chore.
Gosh, he wanted this night to be over.
Aslan's eyes were ringing like there were alarm bells up in his head but he still managed to hear it—a sound. A sharp hiss. A slow, rhythmic drip.
Something dark pooled near the dashboard, trailing down in thick, glossy streams. Gasoline.
Aslan's breath hitched. His eyes flicked to the dashboard—sparking wires, the heat of the engine warping metal.
His pulse spiked.
"Lennox." His voice was low, urgent.
Lennox turned his head to him, blinking sluggishly. Aslan reached out, gripping his jaw hard and forcing his head toward the gasoline spill.
His eyes widened. "Ah, shit."
"Yeah."
They moved at the same time.
Aslan yanked his seatbelt off, ignoring the pain that roared in his ribs. Lennox struggled, fingers slipping with his own belt.
"Hold still," Aslan hissed, reaching for one of his daggers and cutting the belt free.
The moment Lennox was free they threw their weight on the door. It didn't budge.
"Kick," Aslan commanded, his voice hard, his heart racing.
Kade didn't need to be told twice. They kicked together—Kade with his hood leg, and Russo with both his legs—once, twice. But the weight of the door didn't even move.
They continued kicking harder until the door snapped wide enough for them to squeeze through. As soon as their feet touched the ground, they staggered forward, Aslan helping Lennox with his arm under his armpit, since one of Lennox's legs was useless.
They manage to stagger a good distance, then—a single spark, a whooshing sound.
Aslan turned, his eyes widening—
BOOM!
The car exploded behind them, the force of it blasting them forward. Heat licked at their backs, fire roaring as shrapnel rained down. The explosion was instantaneous—a wall of heat and sound that slammed into them like a sledgehammer, stealing the breath from their lungs, and making their ears ring violently.
They hit the ground, hard.
Kade didn't know why he did it, didn't know what drove him or possessed him. He'll probably question himself later. He rolled on top of Russo, shielding him from debris, while covering his head with both his hands, grunting as something hit him on the back.
For a long second, neither of them moved. Their bodies ached. Their breaths came in harsh, ragged gasps.
Kade rolled off Russo once it had stopped raining death, pushing his hair out of his eyes, inhaling deeply, and ignoring Russo's wide eyes on him. His hair was undoubtedly ruined now.
"Why did you do that?" Russo asked.
"Huh?" Kade asked, acting ignorant, looking over at him with wide, innocent eyes.
"Don't fucking 'huh' me," he muttered. "Why did you do that?"
Kade looked away from him and looked back at the burning mess. The fire lit up the sky, but dawn was already breaking through. So the fire combined with the colors of dawn was breathtaking. "Isn't it beautiful?"
"What?" Aslan asked, confused.
"This chaos," Lennox answered softly, looking up at the burning sky with a soft smile. "This destruction. Some destructions could be beautiful. While some are just… destructions."
If Aslan said he was puzzled by Kade Lennox, that would be the understatement of the century. The man was a mess, a disaster. Aslan was beyond surprised when Lennox had shielded him with his body. He was the most injured, but still, he shielded him.
This night has been many things.
He had learned about a war, discovered a part of himself, gained a new ally, and almost died. It had barely been a week since he became capo, but he has had one hell of an experience.
Lennox started laughing all of a sudden. Soft as first, but then it turned to a full belly laugh.
"The fuck are you laughing about?" he rasped.
Lennox coughed, spitting blood on the ground. "That was fun. And we're alive."
Aslan wanted to strangle him. To just wrap his hands around his neck and–
The distant sound of an engine filled the silence, growing closer to them with each passing beat. Aslan and Lennox exchanged wide-eyed glances. Then they were rushing to their feet. But Lennox hissed in pain, falling back to the ground.
"Shit," Aslan cursed.
With each second they were wasting, the enemy was drawing near.
"I should have told you to shoot me somewhere that wasn't my leg," Lennox said, breathing heavily.
Aslan hauled him up, but the other man stumbled, his leg giving out.
"Come on," Aslan gritted out, but Lennox's breath hitched—his wound was worse than either of them realized.
But there was no use in trying to escape anymore.
Three cars surrounded them, and the doors clicked open. Boots crunched against the gravel. Aslan's stomach dropped with dread with every sound of the boots walking closer to them.
Guns. Everywhere.