Dance Till I Die (gxg) ✓

"Mass Murder"

ACE

"No!" Mavis screamed.

Guttural―it was such a guttural sound that memories of prison and war and grown men crying for their mothers flashed in front of Ace's mind.

Ace's grip tightened on the steering wheel.

A sob thrashed through Mavis's body. "No! Isla!" she screamed again, her eyes fixed on the bloodstain. The single small hand. The smear of red on the back window of the Sudan.

Ace hurtled the car forward. Other cars swerved wildly out of her direction, until she was close enough to the black Sudan to slam it forward.

"Duck," Ace said calmly.

Another bullet flew towards their car―but Ace jerked the steering wheel, and it dented the metal rooftop.

"Do not cry," Ace said. "Isla is not dead."

Hope flickered, tentative, in Mavis's voice. Such raw, vulnerable hope. "How do you know that?"

Ace did not answer. She couldn't. Ninjas do not die.

"I need you to drive," Ace said.

"What? Are you crazy?"

"Climb on my lap and drive. Now."

This time, Mavis didn't question it. She unbuckled her seatbelt and crawled over, fitting herself between Ace's legs.

"Lean back," Ace ordered, as she unstrapped a gun from her back. The warmth of Mavis was almost intoxicating, but this was Ace's killer mode, and nothing would distract her from one thing: Save Isla.

Once the window was rolled down, Ace leaned out, keeping one hand firm on Mavis's waist.

Then she aimed her gun and fired at the back window.

Through the glass, she saw the bullet embed itself into one man's forehead.

Got you, she thought.

Isla was not dead. Ace willed it to be true.

"When I tell you to stop, brake as hard as you can."

"What?"

Ace positioned her gun. From this angle, she was within the killshot. The men in the back would have a brief window of time where she was completely exposed, but it wouldn't matter if she got this right.

"Stop," Ace said against Mavis's jaw.

Mavis braked the car as hard and fast as she could. Ace fired her gun.

The tire of the black Sudan exploded. The vehicle tilted onto its side, dipping towards the road in sudden movement.

"There will be a thirty-two second window where we can get Isla back," Ace said. "Stay here."

"Don't you fucking dare, Ace―!"

Ace slid out from underneath Mavis, setting her down onto the driver seat by her hips. "Stay here," she warned.

And like vengeance incarnate, Ace walked across the battlefield. A freeway with a series of smoking cars, left in the ruin of her own destructive driving. And right there, her enemy. Her opponent. The black Sudan with the seven-year-old girl inside, with the blood on the window and the dead man slumped against the glass.