The Milestone Protocol by Ernest Dempsey (best books to read in your 20s txt) 📕

that had been bred into her from an early age, that now kept her completely calm while they hunted her.

A second car emerged from behind the one following her and cut into the passing lane. She watched intently in the side mirror as the second vehicle hurried to catch up. She wasn’t naïve enough to believe that this one was going to simply pass her by and continue on into the night. A few drivers here and there at this hour was one thing. But three in such a brief span, and with two clearly intent on breaching the speed limit? What could their hurry be?

Adriana peered into the mirror, careful to watch the lane in front of her. She already knew how the attack would happen. They would use a swoop-and-squat move. One car would drive around. The other would pull up close behind, then merge over to the left lane, effectively cornering her. Then the one in front would slam on the brakes, forcing her to brake and probably swerve into the other lane. Except there would be a car there. The other vehicle would slam into her, forcing her off the road, and with brakes applied she would lose control and careen into the ditch.

Right on cue, the car behind her sped up to match the pace of the one catching up on the left.

She knew there would only be a second, maybe two, to make her move. The car on the left passed. She kept its occupants in her vision without looking directly at them on the off chance they decided to shoot at her while driving. That wouldn’t be a first.

Her relief was short-lived as the other sedan sped past. She knew there would be no turn signal before they merged. The other vehicle, as expected, cut into the left lane behind the other. As the first car in line merged right, Adriana steered the wheel gently to the left. Her timing had to be perfect. At this speed, performing a maneuver like this was dangerous for all involved. But she had the element of surprise, and the element of control.

She stepped on the gas and twisted the wheel.

The front bumper didn’t need to do much. It rubbed against the back corner of the first vehicle’s bumper and immediately sent the car into a fishtail.

The driver slammed on their brakes—first mistake—and over-corrected, which was the second and fatal mistake.

The sedan slid sideways for a second. Adriana watched as if in slow motion as the vehicle skidded fully sideways until the tires bit into the asphalt. Then it lifted off as though an invisible giant hand had flipped it.

Adriana’s attention shifted immediately to the second car still approaching on her left. She knew the sudden and unexpected turn of events would momentarily distract the driver, and they would have a slower than normal reaction to her next move.

She stepped on the brakes and cut the wheel hard to the left again. Through the tinted windows, she could see the passenger in the front of the second car raise a pistol, but it was too late. The Jaguar slammed into the other car and plowed it off the road and onto the shoulder.

The driver was able to push back enough to keep from crashing into the ditch, but as he shoved the wheel back toward her, she pressed the brakes harder and watched the other vehicle shoot across the road and slam into a concrete barrier.

The first car finished tumbling down the road before it rolled over onto its roof and rocked to a halt.

Adriana stepped on the brakes and stopped her sedan on the side of the road near the car that crashed into the barrier. The innocent driver everyone had passed previously slowed down as well until they were only a few car lengths away from Adriana’s ride.

The driver rolled down the window as Adriana climbed out. The young man behind the wheel must have only been in his early twenties, probably heading back to the country after a party with friends. He looked more awake than she felt, and a terrified expression filled his face.

He parked his car behind hers and started to get out, but Adriana stopped him. She held up her hand and took a warning step toward him. “Stay where you are,” she ordered.

He shrank back in his seat. “Are you okay?” he asked in accented English.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Do you have a phone?”

He nodded.

“Good. Call the police and report the accident. Keep driving and don’t come back.”

“What?”

She took another step toward him, this time with menace burning in her eyes. “I’m trained to deal with this,” she said. “I have a feeling you’re not.”

The young man nodded absently, confirming her assertion.

“Call the police,” she repeated. “And keep driving. We’ll handle this.”

“Are you with the police?”

“Obviously,” she said unconvincingly.

He looked confused but took out his phone and made the call.

“Go,” she commanded, then turned and stalked toward the smoking car on the side of the road.

The young driver did as told, and as he spoke to someone on his phone, explaining what he’d seen, he weaved around the broken glass, plastic, and chunks of metal that had ripped free from the tumbling car on the road ahead. He slowed just enough as he passed the upside-down car to get a look inside. What he saw must have unnerved him because the young man sped away.

Adriana reached the car and approached cautiously. The driver was halfway through the windshield, his bloody head and neck hanging limp against the windshield wipers near the tip of the hood. The other passenger had gone completely through the glass, as evidenced by the torso-shaped hole in the windshield.

The smell of gas, coolant, and antifreeze lingered in the air as the liquids leaked into a greenish blue puddle on the asphalt. Steam rolled up from the wrecked engine block.

As Adriana drew near, she saw a tattoo on the man’s neck. She puzzled over the mark for