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As a white van stuck behind the moving truck honks, Sync races toward the front of the convoy to see how to move the obstacle. I alert all our people circling the area to return to our location.
A few security personnel leave the SUVs to investigate what’s blocking the convoy. I see the gunman from Natasha’s vehicle exit and walk up to the intersection.
I consider the easiest way to reroute the convoy out of the situation. I consider having the SUVs trapped in the intersection—including those with Viktor and Natasha—peel away and head up Lafayette Street. The ones behind them can follow. The ones too far north will remain stuck until we can get the moving truck out of the way.
However, I no longer have people on Lafayette Street. Even if I can convince Viktor’s driver to move in that direction without sufficient security, I could be sending them into an ambush.
Uncertain about the play going down here, I wait for Indigo and Golden to roll back around to give us protection from the rear. Then, I’ll be more willing to move most of the convoy up Lafayette Street and around the blocked traffic.
As I remain close to Natasha’s SUV stuck in the intersection, I spot Indigo and Golden moving toward the honking white van. At first, I’m pissed at them for leaving their locations. Then, I notice how the white van isn’t actually stuck behind the moving van and could easily drive around it rather than also blocking the Jefferson River Bridge intersection. The honking is a signal.
The white van’s side door slides open. Three men clad in black tactical gear and body armor immediately open fire. Golden and Indigo react quick enough to swerve onto Lafayette Street before they’re hit. I don’t know Sync’s fate. I see several Syndicate security men drop to the ground.
Before I can reroute the convoy, I glance up Lafayette Street to find a fucking city bus barreling down our exit route.
I bang on the last SUV of the convoy and signal for them to back up. That’s when I spot the semitruck roaring in from the south. The massive vehicle jumps the curb to get around trapped traffic and blocks our rear exit.
There’s no time to react. Everything goes to shit within a two-minute period. The convoy is now pinned in every direction. Gunshots ring out from the enemy. I hear secondary gunfire, possibly from Tack’s group located past Jefferson River Bridge.
Behind the convoy, men appear from the semi and open fire. I’m barely able to circle behind a parked car and avoid getting shredded by their weapons.
My gaze flashes east toward Lafayette Street, where the bus hasn’t slowed. Instead of trying to block traffic, the driver directs the huge vehicle toward the intersection. I fire at the asshole. The bullets crack the front glass, but the bus keeps on coming. At the last second, the vehicle veers left slightly so it rams directly into the fifth SUV.
I don’t breathe. Time just stops as the massive vehicle propels Natasha’s SUV through the barrier and into the river.
Everything I am drains out of me in that moment. I always knew I would lose Natasha. I figured I’d say or do something stupid, forcing her to end our engagement. Never did I think I’d see her disappear into the rough Jefferson River.
Though I want to jump in after her, I won’t make it halfway across the road without getting shredded by the enemy.
Time stands still. My brain shuts off, and my senses go dark. I don’t hear the night filled with gunfire and screaming.
Nothing matters. Natasha just fucking died before my eyes. How the hell am I supposed to care about a damn thing now?
Gunmen attack from the north, south, and east. We’re completely pinned in. I glance over my shoulder to the front of the convoy. Unless the rest of my club shows up, we’ll all end up like my sweet Natasha.
Suddenly, everything turns back on, and my senses become overly sharp. The noise is jarring. I realize we’re only a few minutes into the chaos. My brain recalculates where my people are located.
Just then, the doors on the first three SUVs open in sync, and the Kovak Syndicate security team emerges.
Like an army of fucking robots, the men kneel in unison and take aim with their long rifles at the enemy along the north side.
Maks and Leon are in the mix, moving with the rest. They drop the first round of gunmen. I realize they’re aiming for the spot between the gunmen’s protective face masks and their chest plates.
Still pinned behind a parked car, I turn toward the back of the convoy and aim up my shots. I quickly kill two gunmen, but I’m forced to scramble away from the assholes who exit the bus and fire on my location.
When the enemy retreats up Lafayette Street to flee the Syndicate’s methodical attack, they’re met by gunfire from Golden and Indigo.
Moving from one parked car to the next, I snake closer to the assholes who exited the bus. The men spot me and decimate the vehicle I’m hiding behind. A few ricochets nick my flesh.
I can’t feel any pain. I went numb as soon as Natasha’s SUV dropped into the river.
The night is awash in gunfire, twisted metal, and screaming. People flee their cars stuck on Lafayette Street and run away from the intersection. I notice people doing the same on the bridge up ahead where the ambush began.
Everything feels slowed down, as if this madness will never end. But that’s just my mind ripped apart to avoid thinking of what happened to Natasha.
Suddenly, reinforcements appear. The sound of motorcycles fills the air as the entire Backcountry Kings Motorcycle Club closes in on the location.
Overhead, a small, black helicopter buzzes by. A second one lands nearby, depositing a Kovak Syndicate security team behind the enemy.
