chronometer

reacclimate

A/N: I am SO SO SO SO sorry this took so long! I was busy up my ass and I had no idea that two weeks had passed by! Please don't hate me :( I'll try to be quicker next time but I am also getting ready to head off to college so I can't promise anything! I have a lot going on right now sadly but your guys' love keeps me going! Please enjoy this chapter and as always your comments make my day! Also no song this time, I was listening to ASMR. 

I cannot tell whether or not I gave Mitchell enough time to react because as soon as I set the pistol to his temple, he screams. It's loud, it's convincing and it sets me in a confused state for nearly a second too long. He grabs onto my arm and pulls, but I can tell he's not using any of his strength. I breathe a masked sigh of relief as guards begin to scramble from the back of the mansion to the front where I have Michael Grassi's son hostage. Before they can get anywhere near me, I back out of the front door where my car is waiting.

He stumbles backwards as I pull him out the door, and I'm careful not to allow him to fall. My finger lays hovering over the trigger that will not be firing any time soon, but should certainly look like it would. Thumps in my chest make themselves loud and clear and I open the passenger door behind me with my hand, fingers nearly slipping off the metal from how slick my hands are with sweat. I shove him as delicately as I can into the chair, slam the door then turn the barrel of my gun towards the people in the opening.

"If anybody moves, he's dead." I know they won't do anything now. However as soon as I begin driving off, they'll chase me. I begin to devise a plan on losing them. I slide across the heated hood of the car and grab for the driver's door. My eyes remain on where the entrance is. At this time, Michael Grassi must be aware of the situation. Guards must be preparing to chase me down. I could die, but not if I don't allow them to kill me. Fresh adrenaline pumps through my veins, my knuckles turn white gripping the gearshift. I throw the car in drive.

My foot slams into the gas pedal and I'm peeling down the driveway, the smell of rubber permeating through the open windows. I look over to Mitch and he has his face in his hands, back hiccuping in a coughing fit. He looks positively shook. I can already hear the sound of engines roaring behind me, but my attention is on the precious cargo in my passenger seat.

"Are you okay?" I feel stupid the moment I ask. Obviously, he is a little overwhelmed.

His chest expands in a deep breath for a few seconds and as he exhales, he leans up to look at me. "Just as long as you know how to get us without any company."

I smile unconvincingly. "Working on it."

"Try to work on not killing me, if you have time."

I ignore him with an all too obvious eye roll, and I make for the nearest highway. By the sound of it, I'm being followed by two cars. I don't hear gunshots yet but if they get close enough, I probably will. The highway is my best attempt at finding a way to lose them. My gaze sets on the road and I purposefully speed, passing any car that blocks my path. It's reckless, dangerous even, but it's my only chance at making an escape. I'm barely able to hear the sound of the chasers behind me with the loud, obnoxious beeping.

I try to pick up on the sound again, but I'm finally met with gunshots. We need to get the hell out of here. I look out the window into the mirror, and they're quickly closing the distance. My eyes find the road ahead and I notice we're about to cross a bridge with an exit ramp below. My throat tightens and I turn to Mitch. He looks half dead already.

"I need you to hang on to anything you can hold on to."

"Are you going to kill me?" Of course he'd ask that. I try to be sympathetic, he looks like he's having a panic attack. His face is pale and his breathing is erratic. I'm surprised he isn't crying.