Chapter Text
The glass exploded in a sharp crack, burning shards flew through the car; Lucy ducked instinctively, her chin almost pressed to her chest, hands clenched on the wheel as freezing air rushed through the gaping hole.
Beside her, Tim straightened despite his shoulder screaming, gripped the gun, breathed through the pain, aimed through the passenger window.
One shot.
The recoil pulled a grimace from him. He forced his breathing to stay steady.
Two.
The car to their left swerved, caught the line, and the guy with the tattoo slumped against the door. Lucy saw it from the corner of her eye without really looking—just the raw information.
Three.
"GO!" Tim's voice cracked out.
Lucy slammed the gas, the engine roared and the car shot forward; wind screamed through the shattered windshield, bit her sweat-soaked cheeks, but she didn't let go of the wheel.
In the rearview, the second car was still there. Getting closer, eating up the distance.
Tim turned, fired through the back window; bullets slammed against metal, ricocheted in brief sparks.
Lucy turned sharply right, tires screeched on wet asphalt, the car slid and she corrected it, arms locked. The car behind them followed.
Too close.
"They're not letting up!" She glanced at the rearview.
Tim reloaded, every movement pulling at his shoulder and a wave of pain climbed to his skull; he swallowed it down.
"Keep driving."
Lucy shot down a wider avenue, ran a red light; a horn tore through the night, she barely avoided a vehicle that appeared on her left and her stomach turned, but her hands stayed firm.
The chase continued, relentless.
Then, above the wind and engine, sirens.
Lucy felt hope first—then fear right after. Because sirens could mean rescue. Or game over.
***
The sirens were wailing from all sides at once.
Lucy looked in the rearview, saw the blue and red lights multiplying—three patrol cars, then four, closing in on them.
"Shit," she breathed.
Tim turned around, saw the police cars approaching and behind them, unmarked black SUVs.
The FBI.
His heart squeezed in a different way—not panic, but the sinking feeling that came before everything went to shit.
"Lucy... they're not coming for us," he said, voice tight. "They were tracking Vince. They're after the others."
The criminals' car on their left accelerated again, tried to ram them; Lucy jerked the wheel hard, the impact didn't come but the proximity made the whole frame vibrate.
For a second, Lucy didn't know where to look: ahead, the lights closing in; to the side, the car pressed against them; and everywhere, that noise rising, swelling.
Then everything tipped.
The police cars shot past Lucy and Tim and threw themselves at the two vehicles chasing them; brakes screamed, tires protested, doors slammed. Figures burst out, weapons raised.
"LAPD! ON THE GROUND!"
Vince's men got out too. Not to surrender.
And they opened fire.
The noise was immediately too loud, too close. Windows exploded around them, metal screamed under the impacts. Lucy braked hard, the car skidded several meters before stopping sideways. Her heart slammed against her ribs.
"GET DOWN!" Tim yelled.
They threw themselves under the dashboard as a burst swept their door. Lucy felt the vibrations in her teeth, in her bones.
Around them, it was war: LAPD firing, FBI pouring out of SUVs and joining the fight, Vince's men firing back from their cars. Flashes of light, explosions, shouted orders—nothing else existed.
Lucy lifted her head just enough to see over the dashboard. The alley was there, on the right—narrow, dark, but open.
"We can't stay here!"
Tim nodded. He was pale, shoulder bleeding, jaw clenched, but his eyes held.
"On three, we run for that alley."
Lucy followed where he pointed. Thirty meters in the open.
"You're not in any shape to run."
"I don't have a choice."
They looked at each other for a second. Lucy saw it in his eyes—behind the pain, the decision already made. And he saw hers: she was going with him, no matter what.
"One."
The gunfire continued, deafening.
"Two."
Lucy felt her fingers slip on the damp leather wheel. She tightened her grip.
"THREE!"
They burst from the car and sprinted.
Air whipped Lucy's face, the ground slipped a bit, her shoes caught on wet asphalt but she ran anyway, body forward.
Beside her, Tim ran despite everything—shoulder on fire, each stride sent burning jolts down his arm but he clenched his teeth and kept going. Lucy caught up, passed him by half a step, turned to make sure he was still there.
He was there.
Behind them, gunshots still cracking, shouts, sirens wailing without end.
They plunged into the alley and suddenly the light changed, shadow wrapped around them. The noise seemed more distant.
Lucy didn't slow down right away—her legs were shaking, adrenaline or cold, she didn't know anymore. She ran anyway, between dumpsters and service doors, turned left then right.
Tim followed, breath short, vision blurring.
"Lucy..."
She stopped dead, turned around.
Tim leaned against the wall, his hand pressed to his shoulder; blood soaked through his bandage and ran down his arm. He breathed hard.
"I'm fine," he said before she could speak. "Keep going."
Lucy stared at him. His face was white, lips pressed tight.
"We're two blocks from LAPD. You can make it."
Tim nodded once. Small. Decisive.
They started again, slower. Lucy slipped her arm under his, supported him on the good side. Tim let her.
The streets were deserted now, just the sirens in the distance.
Then they saw it.
The station. Yellow lights from the neon signs buzzing above the entrance. Patrol cars parked in front. The familiar smell of coffee and plastic reaching them.
Lucy felt something release in her chest.
They crossed the street, climbed the steps, pushed through the doors.
The hall was almost empty at this hour—just a few officers, who looked up and froze.
Lucy and Tim, covered in blood, in glass, soaked in sweat, marked by exhaustion.
And there, at the top of the stairs, arms crossed.
Grey.
He came down slowly, stopped in front of them.
Silence fell, heavy.
Grey looked at Tim, then Lucy, then Tim again.
"My office. Now."
His voice was low. Calm. Ice cold.
TBC