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Ready to Rule The Real Heiress Strikes Back (Lydia and Connor) novel Chapter 1257

Connor’s face turned icy in an instant.

Who was stupid enough to mess with them?

Lydia’s brow tightened. Was this about her?

She glanced at Connor. “Take them somewhere out of the way.”

He nodded. In the rearview mirror, a long line of black armored vehicles chased after them, relentless and hungry like wolves.

“Seatbelt on,” Connor said, his voice cold. He reached into a hidden compartment and pulled out a modified Glock, checking it with practiced hands.

Lydia didn’t waste time. “Got any more? I’ll take two.”

She was serious. Two.

For Lydia, shooting was easy, no matter which hand.

She handled both sides like a pro.

Connor really didn’t want her in the middle of this, but the look in her eyes made it clear there was no point arguing. With a sigh, he handed her two more pistols.

He kept one in each hand for himself.

A firefight. This was about to get wild.

The car jerked hard to the right, tires shrieking against the asphalt.

Lydia rolled down her window. The wind slammed into her face, carrying sand that stung her cheeks, but she didn’t flinch. She kept her gun steady, barrel braced against the edge of the door.

In the mirror, the lead car’s driver leaned out, an AK-47 glinting in his hands.

“Left, now!” Lydia snapped.

The car swerved. A bullet ripped right over the roof, carving a nasty crack into the rearview mirror.

Lydia squeezed the trigger. Her shot nailed the front left tire of the enemy car. The blowout exploded in a mix of rubber and metal, sending sparks flying as the car spun out and smashed into the guardrail.

“Nice shot,” Connor breathed.

Gunfire burst from behind them, bullets peppering their car.

But now wasn’t the time to think about it. She shot Connor a look. “It’s Blood Oath.”

As long as the kill order was out, Blood Oath would never stop chasing.

Connor’s eyes flashed in the darkness, colder and sharper than she’d ever seen.

The second their armored car slammed into the first motorcycle, Connor yanked off his tie.

“Stay down and don’t move,” he growled, voice rough and tight. He wrapped his left arm around Lydia’s waist, pulling her between the seat and his chest.

Gunfire thundered through the tunnel, bullets hammering the car like a storm.

Lydia smelled blood. Not hers. Connor’s. Warm liquid dripped from his arm onto the back of her hand.

“You’re bleeding!” she gasped, trying to lift her head, but he pinned her down.

She heard fabric tearing above her. Connor was ripping his own shirt with his teeth, quickly wrapping it around his bleeding arm.

At the end of the tunnel, the swarm of motorcycles started to move. Someone hurled a Molotov cocktail. Fire exploded in front of the car, heat pressing against Lydia’s face even through the thick glass.

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