Chapter 313
Chapter 313:
Then the atmosphere shifted.
Dallas’s head snapped up, his nostrils flaring. A low, guttural snarl ripped from his throat.
“Dallas p>
“Hold on,” he barked, his hands tightening on the steering wheel until the leather creaked.
I looked in the side mirror. A massive black eighteen-wheeler was barreling down on us from behind, no lights on — just a dark, iron beast emerging from the gloom. It was moving far too fast.
“Is he drunk?” I gasped.
“No,” Dallas said, his voice turning to ice. “He smells of rot. Of blood and madness. Rogue p>
Dallas accelerated, the SUV’s engine whining as he pushed it hard, but the truck was already upon us.
𝖱eа𝘥 t𝗵𝗲 𝗹а𝗍𝖾st 𝗍rе𝗻𝖽ѕ оn
CRUNCH.
The impact was bone-jarring. The truck slammed into our rear bumper, sending the SUV skidding sideways. I screamed, grabbing the dashboard handle.
“He’s trying to run us off!” I cried.
Dallas fought the wheel, his biceps bulging as he corrected our slide. “Get down, Adella p>
The truck didn’t back off. It surged forward and pulled up alongside us in the left lane. I looked out my window and froze.
The cab towered over us. Through the passenger window, I could see the driver — a black ski mask, and through the eyeholes, a pair of dead, soulless eyes locked onto mine. He didn’t look panicked. He looked like an executioner.
With a sharp jerk of his wheel, he slammed the side of the truck into us.
Metal screamed against metal, a deafening shriek that tore through my eardrums. Sparks showered past my window as our SUV was shoved violently to the right — toward the metal guardrail.
“Brace yourself!” Dallas roared, throwing his right arm across my chest to pin me to the seat.
The guardrail groaned under the pressure, the metal buckling. Below us, the dark abyss of the forest waited. The world tilted, gravity losing its hold as the tires left the asphalt.
We were going over.
Adella
The world ended in a cacophony of screaming metal and shattering glass.
Gravity became a violent, unpredictable force, tossing us around like ragdolls inside a washing machine. The SUV rolled — once, twice, three times — before slamming into something solid with a bone-jarring crunch that knocked the air from my lungs.
Then, silence.
It was a heavy, ringing silence, broken only by the hiss of a ruptured radiator and the settling of debris. The smell of deployed airbags — acrid, chemical dust — choked me, mixing with the metallic tang of blood.
“Adella p>
The voice was rough, strained. I blinked, my vision swimming. We were upside down. I was hanging from my seatbelt, the strap digging painfully into my chest. Beside me, Dallas was already moving, his large frame braced against the roof, seemingly unhurt.
“I’m… I’m here,” I wheezed.
“Do not move,” he commanded. There was no panic in his voice — only a terrifying, icy calm.