Twenty minutes later, Zara heard wheels crunching to a stop against the gravel, and the quiet thrumming of an engine. The cold had placed her in a near-comatose state, so she had nearly missed the tell-tale sounds of salvation. No car doors were open or shut, so Zara shuffled over to the gap between the broken billboard and the wall, and crouched down. As she peeked through it, she held her breath, hoping that it wasn't a police car.
What she saw, however, was equally heart-stopping.
A black Hummer was stationed right in front of the alleyway, smoke pouring out of the exhaust pipe and surrounding it in a grey ring. Although she couldn't see inside it due to its tinted windows, it didn't take a genius to know that this was the rescue team she had called for. Behind the corner of the wall, she could see the hood of another, equally imposing vehicle, it's headlights dimmed.
These people are dangerous, the voice muttered in her head.
The men inside were probably armed, and hadn't exited their vehicles for fear of a set-up.
If she were to step outside looking like a menace, they wouldn't hesitate to gun her down. The thought made her skin crawl, but it didn't take away Zara's determination.
The phone began to ring in her hand, and she almost dropped it from the shock.
She crawled out of the safe haven and stood up, both hands in the air holding the phone in a way that they could see the buzzing screen.
"It's—it's me. Max is behind me," Although she tried to keep her voice levelled and confident, her nerves gave away her anxiety. She was shuddering, both in cold and fear, and she couldn't control it no matter how hard she bit her tongue.
One heartbeat, another, but not a movement in sight. Then, all four doors of the first car flew open, followed by the ones of the second.
Men in black uniforms jumped out, armed with all sorts of weapons—both visible and invisible under their jackets—and although they all had different faces, they all conveyed the same message:
Don't fuck with us.
"Get down!" One of them ordered, and Zara didn't hesitate to drop to her knees, hands behind her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that if they ended her miserable life, they would do it quickly and painlessly.
The muzzle of a gun dug into the back of her head, and Zara thought that her heart would jump right out of her chest.
Chattering, arguing, in a foreign language as the men attempted to heave the remains of the billboard out of the way. Zara subtly turned her head to see what they were doing, but the man behind her caught her redhanded and shoved the gun harder against her skull. He barked something at her in his tongue, but then corrected himself and said it in English.
"Keep your head down." She did as she was told, without screaming. From the corner of her eye, Zara saw another guy step out of the car, dressed differently from the others.
His foot hadn't made contact with the asphalt that he was already yelling at the other men, namely the one who had Zara in that deprecating position. The gun was uncocked and taken away from her head, then a grunt and his departure to join the others.
"I'm sorry about that," A voice hovered above her, but she didn't dare lift herself from her position. A scoff, then, "It's okay, I won't hurt you."
Tentatively, she unfolded herself into an upright position. When her eyes landed on the owner of the voice, a knot formed in her throat.
The man who stood before her looked strikingly similar to Max—the two shared a similar bone structure, the same green eyes, but this guy had shorter hair, softer lineaments, and was dressed more regally. He wore a long trench-coat, underneath which hid a colourful embroidered shirt with matching pants.
YOU ARE READING
Deadly Secrets
Tiểu Thuyết Chung[NOW FEATURED IN GENERAL FICTION!!!] Everybody has secrets, something to hide. Some say your secrets are your blood; when you shed too much of it, you die. For Zara DeRealis, nothing is as heavy a burden as her tempestuous past. Orphaned as a young...
