Chapter Text
Cars are not the best means of transportation when one is trying to escape killers. All the Hollywood movies lied. So-called car chase sequences were nothing but a waxing daydream of yet another old bloke who had never been on this other side. Large and easy to aim, cars make good targets. Calling them impractical would be an understatement. Any competent wannabe Hawkeye can disable a car on a single try. Then, by chance, there's traffic on the road, and you're dead. Dragomir learned this the hard way.
Being royalty had its perks most of the time. But that doesn't mean that it is perpetually a state of opulence and ease. There was the drawback of always knowing you'd be betrayed one day. Dragomir was well aware of this. But if he had known, if only he had known, that he too would be betrayed like this by his subjects, he would have never ascended the throne. But hindsight is a bitch, is what people say.
And now all he could do was to somehow escape the people trying to kill him, get to his safe house, regroup with his inner circle and then kill Narkissa. Eventually. Somehow. Not a bad plan he’d say. But escaping his lovely assassins was getting harder and harder with every passing minute. Whoever had sent them probably paid a lot for how annoying they were being right now.
The city lights blurred in the background as he weaved through the streets, trying to shake off his lovely vermin. “Call Orlo” he commanded his phone. The night air was thick, he was starting to have trouble breathing
Couldn’t this shitshow bandwagon go any faster?
Please pick up, you fucking idiot.
The distant wail of sirens echoed through the narrow alleys, drowned out by the staccato rhythm of gunshots. Dragomir's heart pounded in his chest as bullets whizzed past, shattering the car's side mirrors. He gritted his teeth and swerved around a corner, narrowly avoiding a collision with a dumpster.
Pick up pick up pick up–
“Call Failed” his phone chimed. Did that automated AI always sound so smug? He slammed his steering wheel, wanting to wake up from this nightmarish ordeal," Where the fuck is Orlo when you need him?” Dragomir's foot pressed hard on the accelerator, the engine of the black beauty roaring to life once again.
Those men were relentless, he had to give them that. Their dark silhouettes weaving skillfully through traffic. Dragomir's mind raced, his senses heightened. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, every nerve on edge. The city's skyline loomed ahead, a beacon of potential escape.
With a sharp turn, Dragomir entered an abandoned warehouse district, the rhythmic clatter of his pursuers' bikes following closely behind. He swerved–, executing a sharp turn into a narrow alley, the car kissing the metal sheds on both sides, sparks flying everywhere The killers, momentarily caught off guard, struggled to match his impromptu agility.
The alley was a dimly lit passage, shadows dancing on the graffiti-covered walls. Dragomir accelerated, his car's tires screeching against the pavement. The assassins were closing in, their headlights piercing the darkness. They are passionate about killing, aren't they? Maybe their master promised them a promotion if they killed him?
He had to be going crazy now, even he knew that
“Call Orlo” he tried again. Even if this ended up being the last of him, it wouldn't be him if he didn’t go down fighting.
But his luck finally shined– The call connected! “ehnn?!” a slurred voice replied. “ Orlo..? Are you fucking Drunk right now!?? Exasperated, Dragomir screamed. He was done. Truly. If he survives the night, he is going to fire Orlo first. And then kill Narkissa.
A burst of gunfire erupted, forcing Dragomir to hunch down behind the wheel. The acrid smell of burning rubber filled the air.
“Orlo! Lord Richeut is dead.” he could taste the sweat on his lip, it tasted heavily of copper “I think the Anfroy clan did it and now they are after me.” He swerved between stacked crates and barrels, using the tight spaces to his advantage.
“Where are you right now?”Orlo inquired suddenly sounding wide awake.
‘I’m heading north towards our nearest safe house. Contact Merrikh and tell him to meet me there with his strongest fighters.”
Bullets ricochet off the metal surfaces around Dragomir. Fuck! These people were amazing; a truly relentless bunch, really. Ahead, a badgered sign signaled an exit from the alley. Dragomir gritted his teeth and pushed the car to its limits, the engine roaring in protest. As he burst out of the alley, the city sprawled before him like a twinkling sea of lights.
Dragomir's hands clenched the steering wheel, the men still hot on his tail. His eyes narrowed as he assessed his surroundings. A narrow bridge spanning the river loomed ahead, its structure casting long shadows onto the murky waters.
Without hesitation, Dragomir accelerated onto the bridge, gunfire echoing against the metal framework. The bikes followed, skimming dangerously close to the car's sides. Dragomir swerved and dodged, the bridge becoming a battleground of speed and skill. If he wasn’t busy escaping his forever-promised doom, the scene would remind him of that one movie with talking cars. Well, you know the saying. Something about beggars and choosers. Some Royal life this was.
As the city lights reflected on the dark waters below, Dragomir spotted an opportunity. With a sudden burst of speed, he veered off the bridge, taking a perilous jump onto a lower-level road. The bikers caught off guard and hesitated for a moment before following suit.
The screech of tires echoed through the night as Dragomir's car careened around a final turn, the city lights blurring in his rearview mirror. The sound of the motorcycles faded into the distance, swallowed by the urban night.
A sense of relief washed over him. He picked up his phone to call Merrick. He needs to retaliate against the Anfroy clan. Had to give them a taste, a game they’d started, but surely weren't going to win; not on his watch. And definitely not while the Richeut Clan was alive and ready to retaliate. Hungry to retaliate. How dare they target the Richeut Clan. They’d get what was coming. A return gift, it was only right.
Dragomir sank into his murderous musings only to be shattered by the sickening thud of impact. His heart sank as he realized he had collided with something.
Pulling the emergency brakes hard, Dragomir's car skidded to a halt, the acrid scent of burning rubber filling the air. Panic surged through him as he scrambled out of the car, his eyes widening in horror as he saw a young boy sprawled on the pavement, limbs twisted at unnatural angles.
The boy's motorcycle lay mangled nearby, a stark contrast to the once sleek pursuit vehicle. Dragomir's breath caught in his throat as he approached the injured teenager, his mind racing with guilt and concern. The night, once filled with the chaos of a high-stakes chase, had taken an unexpected turn.
Kneeling beside the injured boy, Dragomir surveyed the damage. The young face was pale, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. Dragomir's hands trembled as he checked for vital signs, relieved to find a faint but steady pulse.
"Hey, kid," Dragomir said, his voice tense with worry. "Can you hear me?"
The boy's eyes fluttered open, pain evident in his gaze. "Who... who are you?" he stammered weakly.
"I'm Dragomir," he replied, regret tightening his voice. "I didn't mean for this to happen. Are you okay?"
The boy winced, clutching his injured limbs. "I don't think so. It hurts."
Dragomir's mind raced, torn between the urgency of escape and the responsibility he now felt for the injured boy. Horns wailed in the distance, growing louder with each passing moment.
"We need to get you to help," Dragomir said, scanning the surroundings for any sign of the killers who had pursued him. The night had become a tangled web of consequences.
"I can't move," the boy whispered, his voice strained.
Dread settled over Dragomir as he assessed the situation. Glancing around, he spotted a nearby alley, dimly lit and seemingly deserted. With a deep breath, he hoisted the injured boy onto his shoulders, wincing at the weight. Dragomir stumbled towards the alley, desperate to find a place to assess the boy's injuries and decide on their next move.