Deadly Secrets

Chapter 13: The Limousine

[Revised]

Max passed a hand through his hair. The breath he had been holding as he stood up came out all at once: a white puff in the cold night air. He reached up to pull the hair band out but groaned when he felt the sharpness of the wound from his shoulder. He padded the area and winced when he saw that his fingertips were covered in blood.

Max one-handedly lifted his hoodie over his head, balling it up to then delicately clean his injury. He hissed when it made contact, but proceeded to hold it in place, allowing it to soak up the excess. To his luck, the idiot hadn't pierced a lung, instead just tearing a muscle.

But damn, it hurt like hell.

He was about to throw it onto the ground but then remembered that it held traces of his blood. So he slipped it back on, looking around at the scene before him. Four dead, all in the span of a few minutes. He didn't feel any regret towards what he had done, because, after all, they were the ones that had attacked him first. But now, he had another four deaths under his name.

If their boss finds out, I'm fucked.

Max exhaustedly ran a hand down his face and began to pace back and forth, like a caged animal. Two blinding white lights stopped him in his tracks, the intensity increasing as they neared him. He shielded his eyes with a hand as he stumbled back from the edge of the road, a groan escaping his lips. It was like looking directly into the sun! Who was the asshole that thought it would be a good idea to light up the brights of his car right in his face?

Immediately recovering, Max stomped towards the lights, his eyes two narrow slits, sizzling with intent. He was going to punch through the driver's window and drag the bastard out of the car. Then he would beat his sorry ass, returning him to the hellhole from which he had obviously spawned from.

What disrespect! Did the guy have any idea about who he was dealing with here? He had dealt with enough BS for one night and wasn't in the mood for dealing with anymore.

Scrub.

The lights dimmed to their acceptable level of intensity, and Max's mouth dropped open when he saw that they belonged to none other than to the vehicle of the one man he despised.

Roman.

He remained frozen his place, eyes wide in horror as the lights veered away, narcissistically allowing him to drink in the glory of its body. A sleek black limousine slowed in front of him, its five tinted windows catching the weak glint of the street lights and reflecting them towards Max. It came to a complete halt, the passenger door perfectly in line with the shivering male on the sidewalk, beckoning him towards its priceless luxury.

Dazed, Max blinked several times to snap out of it, his rage building up once again and stronger than before. He clenched and unclenched his fists at either side of his body, his nose flaring as he breathed heavily through it. Like an enraged bull, he began to storm towards it, seeing red. But as he approached the limo, he realised that the last thing he needed at that moment was to bring any attention to himself. Especially since he was in the shittiest part of town, exhausted, frustrated, and completely unarmed.

He was surprised that he still didn't have a gun pressed to his temple, or that he wasn't tied up like an animal and thrown into the back of a van. Not that he would let him take him that easily. Just because he was weaponless didn't mean that he was going to allow them to take them him down without a fight. At least not without giving him the opportunity to snap a few necks.

Max had purposefully decided against following Zara with his Porsche for that exact reason; his car was a jewel amongst the filth that were the neighbourhoods she frequented and Max didn't want it stolen. So, instead, he used a cheaper, more inconspicuous car for the task. It had only failed him two days ago, when the group drove out of the city and into the suburbs.