Chapter Six
The night air hit them like a slap to the face as Viv and Colt bolted into the alley behind The Velvet Fang. Sirens wailed in the distance—too distant. The club's security would be on them before the cops ever showed up, and neither of them planned on sticking around to see how that played out.
"Car's two blocks down," Colt said, already moving.
Viv didn't answer—she was too busy sprinting, blood still warm on her hands, adrenaline burning in her veins.
Behind them, the door to the club burst open. Morelli's goons poured out, all shouts and drawn weapons.
"There! Get those motherfuckers!"
Colt yanked his gun free and fired blindly over his shoulder. A bullet hit one of the goons square in the chest, sending him crumpling into a pile of trash bags. The rest of them kept coming.
"Viv, we need to move!"
Viv wasn't interested in running anymore. She turned, grabbing the first guy who reached her by the collar and slamming his skull into the brick wall. He dropped, twitching. Another lunged at her—she dodged, grabbed his wrist, and drove her knife into his ribs, twisting hard. His scream barely made it past his lips before she shoved him off her blade.
Colt grabbed her arm, yanking her forward. "We don't have time for your fucking murder hobby—move."
They tore down the alley, dodging gunfire as they skidded onto the main street. The muscle car was parked right where they left it—miraculously untowed and not yet full of bullet holes.
Colt slid across the hood, landing in the driver's seat. Viv yanked open the passenger door and threw herself inside just as bullets shattered the back window.
"Go, go, go!"
Colt didn't need to be told twice. The tires screeched as he floored it, sending the car rocketing down the street. The goons didn't have a chance. Within seconds, they were just angry little dots in the rearview mirror.
Viv exhaled, leaning back against the seat. Her hands were still sticky with Morelli's blood. "That went well."
Colt barked a laugh. "You're a fucking psycho."
"Thanks."
They sped through the city, neon lights flashing across the windshield. The high-rise skyline loomed in the distance, but they weren't headed that way. They needed a place to lay low—somewhere dark, forgotten, and crawling with enough lowlifes that two more wouldn't stand out.
Colt drummed his fingers on the wheel. "I know a place."
Viv raised a brow. "Oh yeah?"
"Old friend. Runs an underground poker room. No questions, no cops."
Viv wiped her knife clean on her jeans. "I like him already."
Colt grinned, shifting gears. "You won't."
The city blurred past, but Viv barely noticed. She could still feel the rush, the heat of the gun in her hand, the way Morelli's body jerked when she pulled the trigger.
She could still feel the hunger.
And this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.