My Second Marriage with the Mafia Kingpin novel Chapter 509

Chapter 509: Game’s Over

When Ashley landed on the roof of Lucian’s car, she had no choice but to release her pistol so she could grab onto something. Fortunately, Lucian had lowered the windows, allowing her to grip the top edge of Gustav’s window and keep herself from being thrown off.

She lay flat on her stomach, forced into the position by the violent movement of the car.

At the same time, the vehicle slammed against the side of Rum’s truck, metal scraping against metal.

Sparks flew toward Ashley, forcing her to turn her face away. The impact sent her legs sliding toward the truck’s body. She quickly planted her foot against its side, pushing herself away before her legs could get caught between the two vehicles.

The moment the car separated from the truck, Lucian sent it spinning across the road. Ashley’s lower body swung violently with the movement.

Suddenly, a hand shot out from inside the car and grabbed her arm.

"Shit," she hissed, stretching her free hand toward the opposite window.

Her fingertips barely reached it. Holding on to only one side left most of her body hanging dangerously close to the edge. Her fingers turned white as she tightened her grip, using every ounce of strength to support her weight.

Once Lucian regained control of the vehicle, Ashley raised her head.

Her eyes glinted as he slammed down on the accelerator.

"Let me go!" she shouted at Gustav.

He immediately released her.

Ashley pulled out another pistol and opened fire while still lying flat on her stomach, one hand gripping the top of the window.

BANG!

BANG!

Gustav joined her. Now that no other vehicles were beside them, he climbed halfway out of the window. His legs remained inside the car while his upper body hung outside.

With a rifle in his hands, he opened fire on Scott’s vehicle.

Scott continued swerving to avoid the bullets, but with both Ashley and Gustav shooting at him, he couldn’t dodge them all.

Bullets riddled the rear windshield and trunk.

Soon, one tore through a tire.

Marshal squealed from the backseat as one side of the car dipped. He gasped in horror and stared at Scott.

"Scott!" he roared.

But Scott didn’t answer.

He kept his eyes on the road, fully aware that one of their tires was rapidly losing air.

A moment later, another bullet struck the opposite rear tire, causing that side to sag as well.

"Fuck," Scott hissed.

Still, he didn’t slow down.

Instead, he kept his eyes forward and pushed the car even harder. Even though the situation had taken a disastrous turn, he wasn’t ready to give up yet.

Soon, the port they were heading toward came into view.

Scott swallowed hard, refusing to blink as he crashed through the old, rusted gates.

"Come on..." he breathed.

In the backseat, Marshal clutched his hair in distress, his mind crumbling under the weight of everything happening around him.

He had trusted Scott to keep him alive.

But clearly, Scott was failing.

What Marshal failed to consider was that without Scott, he would have been captured long ago.

The only reason they were still alive was because the man behind the wheel had the experience and skill to keep them moving.

As they sped deeper into the port, weaving through the narrow gaps between shipping containers, Scott finally broke his silence.

"Sir," he called, unsure whether Marshal was even listening. "What kind of deal did you make with Memphis?"

Marshal’s breath hitched. He looked up at Scott with trembling eyes.

Normally, he would have responded with, "That’s none of your business," or, "Stop asking questions and do what I told you."

But he didn’t.

All he could do was stare at Scott’s back while the thick scent of smoke and burned rubber filled the car.

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