Chapter 258 The Hit I

The street was littered with broken bodies. Six of the seven men who had tried to take Liam were now groaning, some rolling on the asphalt in agony, others unconscious with bloodied mouths and shattered gear. Their tactical gear—once polished and imposing—was dented and torn apart like paper armor, their weapons scattered uselessly around them.

Liam didn’t give them a second look.

He grabbed Lana firmly by the arm. "Let’s go."

She followed without question, glancing back at the fallen men as she matched his pace. They walked fast, side by side, their steps urgent.

Liam’s sharp eyes scanned the street. He was looking for a cab. But the gunshots earlier had sent the local traffic fleeing. The few cars that passed didn’t even slow down—they sped up instead, tires screeching as drivers avoided any hint of trouble.

"Are more coming?" Lana asked, her voice low but laced with tension.

Liam nodded grimly. "Yeah. These were the retired ones."

Lana frowned. "You mean there’s worse?"

Suddenly, a tire screeched against the pavement behind them. The unmistakable grind of worn rubber on asphalt made both of them snap their heads around.

A black police car swung into view, the headlights flaring against the dark. It pulled up just ahead of them, and the passenger window slid down.

Vanessa’s face popped out, eyes wide and filled with urgency. "Liam—get in! Now!"

Without hesitation, Liam opened the door and slid in. Lana jumped into the back seat as Vanessa slammed on the accelerator the second Liam shut the door. The car lurched forward, tearing down the street like a missile.

Vanessa didn’t waste time.

"They’re coming after you," she said, her eyes locked on the road. "And it won’t be police next time. It’s going to be ops. Mercs. Killers."

Liam looked at her. "Who wants me dead that badly?"

Vanessa shook her head, her grip tightening on the wheel. "I don’t know. But our Chief—Josh—he’s not acting alone. Someone’s pulling his strings. Someone powerful. They’re forcing him to move against you."

Liam narrowed his eyes. He already knew who it was. Boss. But he wanted to see if she knows too.

"Who?" he asked.

Vanessa exhaled, her jaw tight. "I don’t know. I swear. But he’s scared. I overheard a call between him and someone... someone who threatened him. They’re desperate to get you out of the picture. This isn’t about justice anymore. It’s a hit job."

"How did you overhear?" Liam asked, voice calm but probing.

Vanessa glanced at him. "He took the call in the women’s locker room. I was changing. I hid. I heard everything."

She turned back to the road, her voice rising slightly. "But that doesn’t matter now. What matters is you lay low. For now. These people aren’t going to stop. They’re going to keep coming until you’re either locked away... or dead."

Liam turned his head slightly to glance out the side window. His voice was even. "You don’t have to worry ab—"

"WATCH OUT!"

Lana’s voice pierced the night like a knife.

Liam’s eyes snapped forward, but it was already too late.

A massive truck came barreling from a side alley at full speed—no headlights, no warning—just a wall of steel and roaring engine. It slammed into them from the side like a freight train.

The sound of crunching metal and exploding glass filled the air.

Vanessa’s police car flipped sideways, its frame shrieking in protest as it rolled violently across the road. The world spun in a blur—up became down, left became right—windows shattered as metal twisted and glass rained down like razors.

Lana screamed.

Liam gritted his teeth, throwing an arm over her from the front seat as they flipped again and again. Vanessa’s body slammed against the steering wheel, blood blooming across her temple.

The car tore through a guardrail like paper and went airborne for a second—then crashed into the brush, bouncing off the ground before finally smashing into a thick tree trunk with a thunderous CRACK.

Silence.

Smoke hissed from the twisted hood of the ruined car. Steam drifted from the engine block. Sparks flickered near the dashboard. The scent of oil, blood, and metal filled the night air like a poison.

The windshield was gone.

The frame of the car groaned as it slowly settled, broken and sideways, nestled in the thick bushes off the road. Leaves and dirt were scattered everywhere.

Inside, nothing moved for a few moments.

Then—

Liam’s fingers twitched.

His chest heaved with a slow, controlled breath. His head was bleeding from a cut above his brow, and his shirt was torn, but he was alive. His gaze snapped around instantly, sharp despite the crash.

He turned to Lana.

She was dazed but conscious, groaning softly, her arm covering her head.

"Lana..." he muttered, voice rough.

Her eyes fluttered open. She blinked. "Liam..."

His heart steadied.

Then he looked toward the driver’s seat.

Vanessa wasn’t moving.

Her head was slumped forward, blood trickling down her cheek from a nasty gash at her temple. The airbag had deployed—but she’d still taken a bad hit.

"Vanessa," Liam said, louder now.

Still no response.

His eyes narrowed.

—-

The smoke was thick, curling up from the mangled wreck like a warning flare. Metal hissed as it cooled. Somewhere in the distance, dogs barked—and further off, faint engines rumbled in the dark.

Liam grunted, trying to open his door. It refused to budge, warped inward by the collision. His patience was already threadbare.

Without hesitating, he shifted his body, braced, and slammed his shoulder against it.

The door exploded off the hinges with a metallic clang, tumbling several feet away.

He stepped out without a second thought, the muscles in his arms twitching with restrained fury. He moved immediately to the other side. Lana’s door was worse, bent in like a crushed can. He didn’t hesitate—he ripped it clean off with a loud screech of tearing metal.

Inside, Lana stirred, dazed, her eyes unfocused.

"Hey, hey..." Liam whispered, unclipping her seatbelt. Her body slumped forward, weak and heavy in his arms. That sight alone tightened something brutal inside his chest. He picked her up gently, like she was made of glass, and carried her to the tree nearby.

He knelt, leaning her softly against the trunk.

"I’ll be right back," he said quietly, brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek. "One minute. I promise."

Then he was gone.

Liam moved back to the wreck with grim purpose. The front of the car was embedded in the tree, smoke curling from the hood, the bumper nearly melted into the bark. He cracked his knuckles once, then placed both hands on the chassis—and pushed.

With a single, monstrous shove, the entire car groaned and shifted, dragging backward across the dirt like it weighed nothing. Branches snapped. The tree cracked. Metal protested, but Liam didn’t stop until the vehicle was clear.

Now free, he circled to the driver’s side and yanked that door open, wrenching it from the frame.

Vanessa was slumped over the airbag, unconscious, her chest barely rising.

"Vanessa?" he called, lowering his face closer.

No response.

His heart kicked harder.

"Vanessa!"

Still nothing.

He undid her seatbelt quickly and caught her as she collapsed into his arms. He lowered her gently to the ground and cupped her cheek, patting her lightly. Her head lolled to the side, her hair damp with sweat and blood.

"Come on," he muttered, his voice low and urgent.

Still nothing.

He set his jaw and laid her flat on her back, checking her pulse. It was faint. Fainter than it should’ve been.

Too long. She’s not breathing properly.

"Damn it," he hissed.

Without another second of hesitation, he placed his hands at the center of her chest and began chest compressions. Firm. Steady. Each pump echoed like a clock ticking away her time.

"One... two... three..."

His eyes were locked on her still face, sweat forming on his brow.

"Twenty... twenty-one..."

Then he leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers, giving her two slow breaths. Her chest rose beneath his hands—then stilled again.

"Come on, Vanessa," he muttered. "Don’t do this."

More compressions.

More breath.

Then—a gasp.

Vanessa’s body jerked beneath him as she sucked in air violently, eyes flying open in a blind panic. Her hands gripped his arm, her nails digging into his skin as she clung to him like he was the only thing anchoring her to reality.

"Liam," she choked, voice hoarse. "We were... the crash—rolling—I—"

"You’re okay," he said, voice calm now, strong. "You’re safe."

She clung tighter for a moment, breathing ragged and shallow. The blood on her temple had stopped, coagulating around the wound, but Liam barely noticed. He was already checking her eyes, her vitals, making sure she was stable.

Then, without another word, he slipped his arms beneath her and lifted her off the ground with practiced ease. She didn’t resist, still shaken.

He carried her over to Lana, who was now on her knees, trying to stand. Her legs trembled, but her fire hadn’t faded.

She looked up as he approached, relief washing over her. "You got her out..."

"She’s alive," Liam confirmed, lowering Vanessa gently beside her.

Lana exhaled shakily, then her expression turned sharp again. Her eyes scanned the tree line. She could feel it—just like Liam had felt it earlier.

They were being surrounded.

"Go," she said firmly, her voice low.

Liam turned.

But he only got a few steps away before he stopped again.

Then he turned around... and returned.

Lana blinked. "What—?"

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he marched over to the mangled car, wrapped both hands around the chassis, and lifted it. Metal shrieked under his grip as he dragged it toward the tree. With one last heave, he flipped the car onto its side, placing the ruined mass of steel and flame between the women and the direction the enemies would come from.

A shield.

In case of stray bullets.

In case things went to hell.

He stepped back, breathing hard now, his eyes glowing faintly in the moonlight.

Lana watched in silence, something stirring deep in her chest. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t even awe.

It was trust.

She placed a hand over Vanessa’s shoulder and looked up at Liam one more time.

"Go," she whispered. "I’ve got this."

And without another word, Liam turned to face the direction of the people coming as he spat out the blood in his mouth.