The roar of the engine filled the cramped space as Lance's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. The Corolla shuddered beneath him, every bump on the asphalt pounding through the frame like a heartbeat gone haywire.
Behind them, the black SUV gained ground with terrifying speed, its headlights stabbing through the darkness like hunting eyes. Bullets spat through the night, cracking against the car's metal like angry hailstones.
Dani leaned forward, eyes locked on the rearview mirror. "Hold on tight. They don't want that milk back."
Lance swallowed hard, heart hammering in a frantic rhythm. "Okay, so you say you stole something from a secret government branch that technically doesn't exist. And it's in this milk."
She nodded sharply, voice low but urgent. "They engineered it—some kind of bioweapon, or worse. If it falls into the wrong hands—well, let's just say, the world doesn't get to keep spinning."
The words settled like a stone in Lance's stomach.
"Why me? Why the hell am I the one driving it around?"
Dani's gaze flicked to him, almost like she hated the answer. "Because they figured you'd be the perfect patsy. The guy who'd never see it coming. You were the distraction."
Lance glanced down at the milk jug wedged between his leg and the console, now feeling impossibly heavier.
"Distracted by what?" he asked again, voice cracking.
Her eyes darkened, and for a moment, she looked almost human beneath the armor of urgency.
"I shot a guy, remember?" she said, voice quieter now, almost a confession.
The road curved sharply, and Lance jerked the wheel to keep them on the ramp. Tires screamed in protest. Dario whimpered softly from the back seat, pressing his body against the door.
"Why did you shoot him?" Lance asked, breath ragged.
Dani didn't answer immediately. Instead, she stared ahead, her jaw clenched.
"That guy was coming for me," she said finally. "And now they're coming for you."
The SUV swerved dangerously close, forcing Lance to swerve as well, narrowly avoiding a collision. Another round of bullets tore through the air.
Lance's pulse was a live wire. His rational mind screamed for calm, but adrenaline had claimed the wheel.
"Okay, okay," Lance gasped. "So, what—do I just drive until we're not dead? Because right now, I'm really bad at that."
Dani cracked a grim smile. "Yeah. Pretty much."
He glanced once more at the milk, then back at her.
"This is the worst milk run ever."
She laughed, sharp and breathless.
"Welcome to the nightmare."
Lance's hands trembled on the wheel, his breath shallow and quick, but his voice pushed out a line that felt half sarcastic, half pleading.
"Right. Because nothing says 'fun Friday night' like a high-speed chase with a possibly world-ending milk carton."
Dani shot him a glance, eyes sharp. "You can make jokes when we're not dodging bullets."
He swallowed, jaw tight. "Yeah, sure. Just don't ask me to actually drive like a hero, alright?"
The Corolla rattled and groaned as Lance pushed it harder than he ever had before. The streetlights blurred into streaks of yellow and white. The black SUV behind them kept pace, aggressive and relentless.
From the back seat, Dario lay sprawled across the dog bed, utterly indifferent to the sirens and gunfire echoing outside. The only sign he was aware of anything was a slow, occasional twitch of his tail.
Lance glanced at him briefly, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're the calmest damn dog I've ever seen. Thanks for the moral support, buddy."
Dani frowned. "How can he be so chill with all this going on?"
"Because he's a dog. Dogs don't care about government bioweapons or people trying to kill us at 2 AM." Lance's voice cracked slightly but he forced it back into dry humor. "His biggest concern is whether I'll drop his treats."
Another volley of bullets smashed into the rear bumper. Lance flinched but kept his foot steady on the gas.
"I'm not a cop," Lance admitted, voice low. "I'm just a guy who knows how to fix printers and reboot laptops. This? This is way out of my lane."
Dani's eyes softened for a moment. "You're doing better than most would."
Lance looked over, surprise flickering in his chest. "Thanks? I think."
His mind raced—each turn, each screech of tires, every echo of gunfire pounding his nerves like a drumline. Fear slithered under his skin, but he shoved it down, kept it wrapped in layers of sarcasm and disbelief.
Because if he let it out? If he let the panic win? Well, then he might as well have handed the world over to whatever nightmare they were running from.
He stole a glance at Dani, then at the milk carton sitting steady beside her.
"Alright," Lance said, voice steadier now. "We survive this, I want a full explanation. Starting with how milk turned into a weapon."
Dani gave a short laugh. "You're going to get that explanation. If we live long enough."
Dario yawned loudly from the back.
Lance smirked. "Yeah, well, at least one of us is handling this like a pro."