HADES (t.h.)

Chapter 6

The gunshots left her ears ringing, muffled screams surrounded her. Her eyes gave her no remedy when she opened them to see red, red hands, red windshield, red faces. Beside her, Tom sat pinned between the back of his seat and the steering wheel pinched his body. His neck barely able to keep his head up, but he turned it to look at Y/N. Blood ran from a gash across his forehead, seeping into his eyes that blinked sporadically. His hands shook, the skin red and purple. From his lip coursed dark red blood, his right eye swelling rapidly.

Nothing held her down except what she was seeing. She felt no pain anywhere, just an excruciating amount of adrenaline making her hands tremble as she thought about what to do with them.

Her mind flooded with thoughts of the many girls she just met. Their eyes pleading for escape, the iron grip her arms that screamed for help. They would not say it, because their tongues would conspire against them in the fear of being found out. But the way they stuttered through the lies, the undying wish of freedom glowing behind their eyes gave them away.

"Tom," she said softly, her hand reaching for his.

What was she to do?

"I'll be right back," she reached for the door, her fingers wrapping around the handle.

Tom groaned in protest, the little energy he had left went in to the quick shaking of his head, making blood seep out from his wounds even faster.

"I know," was all she said as she shoved the door open and stepped out onto the road.

The damage caused havoc in the streets, local residents hid behind drawn curtains, but peered through gaps.

There was shipping truck driving in front of them that had opened up it's back doors to reveal a man with a machine gun. He shot through the windshield and then the truck stopped and smashed the car's engine in. The shooter had died in the collision.

His body was back up the road, Y/N went to observe him. She found that he was not anyone she recognized, but soon found ID in his back pocket. He had been a bartender at a local nightclub, had a pregnant wife. His wallet carried ultrasound pictures and a photo of himself and a pretty young woman. From his information, she assumed that Martin had blackmailed him into being the shooter as he gave no evidence of mafia.

After, she marched to the front of the truck and looked in the driver's seat.

It was empty.

She reached for the gun she kept in her waistband, wrapped her hand around it and spun.

But she was too late

"Long time no see," Martin said, his handgun pointed between her eyes. The metal was cold, and she knew he wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger.

Her eyes bolted from the gun, to his face, to anything around her that she could use.

Quick, she thought.

A timer ticked away in her head, knowing Martin would have to make a move if she didn't. Y/N took control over her breathing and thought, when the gun pressed into her skin she found her opportunity. As Martin leaned into her with the gun, she immediately moved to the left and smashed his face against the truck.

He groaned, his hand covering his now bloodied nose. The liquid dripping into his mouth now, his hand covered in blood. Martin turned to Y/N looking to reach out, grab her by the neck. He swung a punch at her, nailing her in the cheek. She felt her vision go awry, then refocused to see another fist coming. This time, she ducked. It almost seemed to be in slow motion, she felt the disturbance in the air when his arm swung above her.