Chereads / Veil of the Vanguard / Chapter 4 - Highway chase

Chapter 4 - Highway chase

Lena fought with every ounce of strength she had. She clawed, kicked, and screamed, her voice tearing through the stillness of the highway.

"Let me go!" she shouted, landing a desperate kick on the shin of the stocky man gripping her arm.

"Damn it!" he snarled, staggering back momentarily.

"She's a feisty one" the wiry man sneered, stepping in to grab her.

"Hold still, girl, or I swear you'll regret it."

"Like hell I will!" Lena spat, twisting her body to evade his grasp. Her heart raced as adrenaline surged through her veins. But the wiry man was faster than he looked.

"Enough of this!" he barked. Pulling a small vial from his pocket, he soaked a cloth with its contents and lunged at her. Before Lena could react, he clamped the cloth over her

nose and mouth.

"No-!" she tried to scream, but the sickly-sweet fumes filled her senses. Her vision blurred, her limbs weakened, and the world around her faded into darkness.

"Finally" the wiry man muttered as Lena went limp in his arms.

"Get her in the car!" the driver shouted, leaning out the window. "We don't have all night!"

The men hurriedly bundled her into the backseat. The stocky man slammed the door shut, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"She was a damn handful" he grumbled, shaking his head.

"Let's get moving," the driver growled, slamming on the accelerator. The black van roared onto the highway, the city lights barely visible in the distance.

Inside the car, the kidnappers grew tense.

The driver kept glancing at the rearview mirror, his fingers tapping nervously against the steering wheel.

You sure no one saw us?" the stocky man asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"This stretch of road is a ghost town," the driver replied, but there was uncertainty in his voice.

"Then what's that?" the wiry man hissed, pointing out the back window.

A pair of headlights appeared on the horizon, growing larger with alarming speed. The sleek, black car glided effortlessly across the road, its engine barely audible over the roar of their own.

"Crap!" the broad-shouldered man growled, his face darkening. "It's him."

"Who?" the wiry man asked, his voice tinged with fear.

"Dan Cross," the broad-shouldered man replied, his jaw tightening. "You know the name. You've heard the stories."

The wiry man paled. "He's just one guy! We've got four of us. What can he do?"

The stocky man let out a bitter laugh.

"If he's behind us, we're dead men."

In the black car, Dan Cross remained focused, his hands steady on the wheel. The leather of his black suit creaked softly as he shifted, his sharp eyes hidden behind mirrored dark glasses.

"Killian," he said into his earpiece, his baritone voice calm but authoritative.

"Listening" Killian's voice came through the speaker.

"Four suspects in a black van. One unconscious victim in the backseat. They're heading east on the highway, about two miles from the Main Bridge."

"What's the play?"

"Disable the vehicle, take them down, Dan replied. "Keep an eye out for resistance."

He pressed a button on his dashboard, activating auto-drive. The car adjusted seamlessly, maintaining its speed and trajectory. Dan reached for his handgun, a

sleek black weapon designed for

precision.

The van in front swerved erratically, its occupants growing increasingly panicked.

"Do something!" the wiry man yelled, his voice cracking.

"Shut up!" the driver snapped, gripping the wheel tightly. "I'm trying to lose him!"

Dan leaned out of his window, taking aim. The first shot rang out, shattering the silence of the empty highway.

"Holy crap, he's shooting at us!" the wiry man yelped, ducking as the bullet narrowly missed the back tire.

"Shoot back!" the broad-shouldered

man ordered, shoving a gun into his

hands.

The wiry man leaned out, firing wildly at the black car. The bullets pinged harmlessly off its reinforced exterior.

"It's bulletproof!" he shouted, his voice trembling.

"No kidding," the stocky man growled, fumbling for his own

weapon.

Dan smirked, taking another shot. This time, the bullet struck its mark, puncturing the rear-left tire. The van wobbled, but the driver fought to keep control.

"They're desperate," Dan muttered, adjusting his aim.

The van veered sharply, trying to throw him off, but Dan's car stayed locked onto their tail.

"We can't shake him!" the driver yelled, his voice edged with panic.

"Then we fight!" the broad-shouldered man snarled, leaning out to fire his own weapon.

Dan fired again, the shot taking out another tire. The van skidded, sparks flying as the rim scraped against the asphalt.

"Hold on!" the driver shouted, his arms straining as he fought the wheel.

The Main Bridge loomed ahead, its

bright lights illuminating the road.

"Last chance..." Dan murmured to himself, his voice barely audible. He took aim one final time, squeezing the trigger.

The bullet ripped through the front tire, and the van careened toward the bridge railing. With a deafening crash, the car

came to a halt, its front end crumpled against the metal barrier.

Dan parked his car smoothly, stepping out with an air of unshakable confidence. The sound of his boots echoed against the concrete as he approached the wrecked van, gun raised.

"Out of the car" he commanded, his voice like steel. "Now."

The stocky man raised his hands, his gun clattering to the ground. The others hesitated, their faces pale and drenched in sweat.

"I said now!" Dan barked, his tone brooking no argument.

One by one, the men stumbled out of the car, their hands raised in surrender.

Killian appeared beside Dan, his sharp brown eyes scanning the scene.

He moved with practiced efficiency, cuffing the men without hesitation.

"Four suspects, just as you said," Killian remarked, his tone dry.

Dan nodded, his focus shifting to the backseat.

"And the girl?"

Killian opened the door, finding Lena slumped against the seat, her face pale but peaceful.

"She's alive," Killian confirmed, pressing two fingers to her neck to check her pulse. "Looks like they drugged her pretty hard to knock her out."

"Good. Search her for anything that can tell us who she is or where she's from," Dan instructed, his voice calm but commanding.

Killian nodded and began his search. He checked her pockets and glanced at her attire—a thin set of pajamas, hardly the kind of clothing someone would wear out in public. It struck him as odd. Had she been kidnapped from her home?

"No ID. No phone. Nothing at all," Killian reported, shaking his head.

Dan's brows furrowed as he stepped closer, his gaze lingering on the unconscious girl.

"She doesn't belong here," he said quietly, more to himself than anyone else. His tone hardened as he added, "Call the police."

Without hesitation, Killian pulled out his communicator and relayed their location. Within minutes, the distant wail of sirens echoed across the bridge.

Dan moved to the edge of the railing, standing with his arms crossed as he watched the flashing lights approach. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes flicked back to the girl, a shadow of concern crossing his face.

The police arrived swiftly, their vehicles flooding the area with red and blue light. They moved to secure the criminals first, escorting them to their cars.

An officer turned toward Dan, nodding toward the girl.

"And her? What's her condition?"

"She's unconscious but stable," Dan replied evenly. "She needs medical attention and, more importantly, someone to figure out who she is. She doesn't have anything on her—no ID, no phone, nothing to identify her."

The officer frowned and motioned for the paramedics to take over. As Lena was carefully lifted onto a stretcher, the officer extended a hand to Dan.

"Appreciate the assist. You probably saved her life tonight."

Dan shook his hand briefly, his grip firm. "Just doing my job."

After the criminals were hauled off and the scene cleared, Killian returned to Dan's side.

"That was handled quickly," Killian remarked, his tone matter-of-fact.

Dan didn't respond immediately. His gaze followed the ambulance as it drove away. Something about her didn't sit right with him.

"Something bothering you?" Killian asked, noticing Dan's lingering stare.

Dan shook his head slightly, breaking his train of thought.

"Not yet," he said cryptically. "Let's go."