Alessandro |18+|

41

ARIA

The glass didn't break. A second bullet ran through the air—and this time it shattered the side mirror into pieces. I covered my ears with my hands, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest.

Sandro had both hands on the steering wheel as he accelerated. I screamed when he swerved into the other lane, catching me off guard as my body tensed in the seat. He quickly regained control.

To say I was terrified—would be biggest fucking downplay. But Sandro on the other hand, appeared to be as calm as ever. He had clearly been through something like that before while I couldn't comprehend that someone was trying to kill us.

I had never been more grateful for bulletproof windows.

"Sandro—what the fuck?" I said, my voice shaking uncontrollably. That was all I could say in that moment.

"Stay down, you hear me?" Sandro said, sparing me a quick glance as we sped past dark trees. There was no one around besides us and the car attempting to run us off the road.

"Yeah, I hear you," I said, holding onto the sides of the seat as if my life depended on it. It probably did. Don't panic. Don't panic. I could feel my chest tightening, just as another bullet hit the bumper of the car.

Tires were squealing and the smell of burning rubber hit me. We were going unbelievably, and dangerously fast. I was low in my seat, and I peeked through the gap to see that the van had no lights. I looked away, lowering myself further as my chest heaved from the panic arising.

"Bellissima," Sandro said, catching my attention. My head whipped to gaze at him and he had his jaw clenched until he spoke again.

"Are you okay?" he asked, and I looked at him incredulously. Was I okay? I was far from it, but I swallowed hard before answering.

"Yes."

"Good. Because you have to drive."

My face contorted into pure shock. Drive? I couldn't tell if he was joking or not. He must have been joking.

"That's insane, Sandro," I yelled, the wind and engine noise nearly drowning out my voice. I grit my teeth when another bullet lodged itself into the unbreakable glass. What the fuck is happening? Suddenly, Sandro slowed down—the speed decreasing significantly. My eyes were wide and my chest felt tighter than it was a minute ago.

"Drive or shoot?" he asked, and I let out a shaky breathy.

"Sandro, I-"

"Drive or shoot?" he asked again, emphasising the question and I knew I had no other choice.

"Fuck!" I hissed, keeping my head down as I snapped the seatbelt off me before manoeuvring onto his lap. He was underneath me, his chest flushed against my back and I felt his hands go to my hips.

"Steady. Take control of the acceleration baby, you're doing so good," he said and if I wasn't as focused as I was, I would have glared at him. Fuck.

I calmed down as I listened to his words, telling myself that Sandro wouldn't let anything happen to me. Even when the van started tailgated us. Who the fuck were those people? I kept my questions for later, knowing that I needed to follow Sandro's instructions. I replaced my foot with his and I felt him tap my thigh to let me know that he was going to move.

"You got this," he told me, but it didn't feel that way.

My hands were trembling as Sandro lifted me off him, sliding out from underneath me and slumping into the passenger seat. He did it with a surprising ease.