"I think we're in the clear." I whisper to Luka as I continue to stare through the rearview mirror, and the SUVs that had once been closer than they appeared have disappeared, and the only behind our car is dust. 

"How did they find us?" Turning to Luka, I watch as his fists clench against the steering wheel, knuckles fading to a chalky white as he grits his teeth. 

He doesn't respond. 

"They have eyes everywhere, it's a miracle they didn't find us sooner." Roman whispers from the back and I make eye contact with him in the mirror. He gives me a strange look. 

The gleeful gaze that usually rested in Roman's eyes has disappeared, covered with a glaze, a sheen. As if he's attempting to blind himself from all the trouble we've gotten ourselves into. All the trouble that we were born with. 

I shift my gaze back to the front, staring at the yellow dashes in front of us as they slide under the car, faster and faster until they almost blur into a single line. 

The yellow rose brushed against my ear as my mother tucked it into my hair, her own hair tied back into an intricate braid I always wanted to learn. 

I reach up, pushing daisies in between the tresses, fitting them into the gaps between the loops of hair. 

Mother smiles down at me, that same smile I always looked to to feel safe, to know that nothing would ever happen to me. 

The backdoor slams closed, and my mother's head snaps around, and I watch as the rose in her hand crushes with the force of her fist. 

I can't see what's behind her as I continue to place flowers in her hair, giggling to myself. She looks like a dark haired mermaid. 

"West, go back inside, I don't want to speak to you." Mother barks, her voice harsh, the way it always does when she speaks to father. 

"Rose, you're going to have to deal with this bullshit. We owe him quite a lot of money, and I can't exactly-"

"That's no fault of mine, West. It's your's." My mother snaps, and suddenly, I hear the shuffling of father's feet across the grass, quick and demanding, as they grab hold of mother's braid, all the carefully placed daisies falling down like rain. 

"Katya." Luka's voice breaks me from the memory, and I snap my neck to face him. 

"Hm?" I mumble. 

"I'm sorry for getting you into this mess." His voice is so quiet, so muffled, it's almost like a gust of wind. But I hear his words. 

I stare at him for a moment, and the whole car is silent, and I know Roman is listening in too. 

"This is as much a consequence of my life as it is of your's." I whisper, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. 

He shakes his head, his jaw clenched so roughly, I think his teeth might crack. 

"I should have killed him when I had the chance." He grits, and I can almost hear his teeth grinding together. 

"Then you'd be just as dead as him, you know that." I state. It's odd, talking about death and murder so casually. I guess being chased by mobsters makes you more cynical. Like Roman is becoming. 

"I never wanted to be like him, and he knew it. I always tried to pretend in front of him, to act like the biggest dick just to make him believe I wanted to be a leader, a gangster." 

I stay silent, waiting for him to finish. It's so rare that Luka speaks like this, opening up. Part of me wants to ask if he's high or drunk, but I know he's not. He's just sad. Like me. 

"When I was a kid, he gave me a puppy for my birthday. It was a pit bull, and I called him Gonzo. He was all white, with small black spots on his ears. My father wanted me to train him, to make him obedient to me. Instead, I gave Gonzo love. I fed him from my hand, I played fetch with him, I even let him sleep in my bed. After a few months, I brought him to my father, so proud of the work I had done to train him. I expected him to be proud too, to give me a clap on the back and smile. Like a normal fucking father would. But instead, he pulled out a gun and shot Gonzo between the eyes. He told me that I had failed, that I turned a strong dog into a weak pussy. That he wouldn't let that happen to me, that he would make me a man if it killed him." 

I feel my eyes brim with tears, imagining a young Luka, and the tears in his eyes that he must have hid as he saw his pet lying in front of him. 

Luka still stares straight ahead, not looking at me. But I can see his eyes glisten slightly in the light of the street, but he doesn't let the tears fall. He wouldn't. 

I'm still silent. I don't know how to respond. For a moment, I wish we were back in the motel room, with Roman slumped against the window, drunk and asleep. And it was just me and Luka in the small bubble of his emotions, the small world that we would be able to create on an itchy and cheap bedspread, sharing stories, sharing our own pain to maybe lessen each other's. 

I reach my hand across the divider, placing my small fingers over his right hand. His knuckles are freezing cold, rough and taut. He stiffens for a moment, before removing his hand from the steering wheel. I begin to retract my hand, embarrassment filling me. But then he shifts his grip, his hand enveloping mine, engulfing it. A warmth spreads through my chest and my face, and a sense of nervous content fills my heart. 

We're silent after that, our shared troubles melding in the touch of our clasped hands. 

It must be hours later when I wake up, my neck stiff and craned, attempting to make the headrest into some sort of comfortable pillow. 

I blink my eyes, rubbing them slightly. Luka's hands are back on the steering wheel, mine clasped in my lap. 

"Where are we?" I mumble, my voice hoarse and grumbled. 

"Wisconsin." He whispers, stifling a yawn. 

"Jesus, how long have you been awake, Luka?" I ask, sitting up straight. 

"I'm fine." But even as he says this, I can see the dark bags that have gathered under his eyes from sleeplessness, the same red tint I usually see after he smokes. 

"Here, let me drive for a bit, you need to rest."

"I'm fine."

"Luka, if you don't get some sleep, and keep driving, you're gonna end up killing us before Iago ever can." 

He stiffens, but he knows I'm right. Silently, he pulls over, his back like a wooden board as he opens his door, as I do the same. 

He moves to my side of the car quickly, standing in front of me for a moment, inches away. 

"Here." He takes my hand, helping me step down onto the gravel cover of the road. That familiar tingle travels down my arm at his touch, but I ignore it. He needs to sleep. 

I move to the driver's side, sliding into the seat, just as he slips into his. 

I begin to drive, and within minutes, he's out cold. 

We've driven for a few more hours when Roman wakes up, Luka still fast asleep. 

"Jesus, for a second I thought I was still drunk and imagining that Luka turned into a chick." He jokes, the first joke from him in days. 

"You wish." I murmur, meeting his eyes with a smile. 

As I make eye contact with him in the rearview mirror, something in the corner catches my eye. The shiny back surface of an SUV, windows almost fully tinted. 

"Roman, look behind us." I say slowly, gently. I don't to cause a panic. 

He frowns, and cranes his neck and back to check behind us. Almost as soon as he does, he snaps back to face me, his face stiff and I know my suspicions are confirmed. 

"Katya, you need to lose them." His voice is serious and harsh, and I nod, my fingers tightening against the steering wheel. I watch as Roman reaches into the side pocket of the car, pulling a handgun and loading it. 

"Just in case." He grits his teeth. 

"Luka, wake up." I say, and watch as he groggily raises his head, his eyes fogged from sleep. 

"What?" He mumbles, rubbing his fists against his eyes. 

"We're being followed again, how do I lose this guy?" 

He is immediately alert, his eyes finding the mirror to his side, and his jaw growing taut. 

"Go, Katya, go." He snaps, and I press my foot against the gas, veering forward. Luckily, it's still early in the morning, so there's not much traffic. Also, it's Wisconsin. 

I begin to speed up, the car behind me matching my speed. 

"How the hell am I supposed to lose him on an open road?" I bark, my voice trembling slightly. 

Luka and Roman don't answer, their eyes still trained on the car behind us. 

I begin to swerve the car, speeds almost reaching 100 mph, and my heart racing at a similar pace. 

The car begins to pull to the side of me, and tries to force me to veer against the median. 

"Luka, what do I do!" I scream, panicking. 

"Just don't crash, Katya, you need to stay calm." He barks, and begins to roll down his window, a handgun gripped in his hands. 

Time seems to slow down as the SUV driver begins to roll down his own window, and I can see the barrel of a shotgun begin to peak out. My foot pressing down on the gas, Luka's hand raising to point at the car. 

And then time is frozen as a shot fires.