Forced Marriage To The Billionaire (Book 1)

Epilogue: The Chase

"What is going on, Jorge?" Markris asked as he hurried behind Jorginho. They were walking a different path from what they had initially come from. It was like going around a maze.

"I'll explain it to you later, but we need to leave now." A car rounded up the corner and stopped before them.

"That's our ride," Jorginho said as its door automatically opened.

They hopped into the car, and it drove off.

"Seriously, what is going on? Why the fuck are we in a different car, and where is my driver?" Markris said, his voice getting pitchier. He tapped his feet continuously, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"Calm down, Mark, I'll explain it. We have to be calm now." Jorginho said, looking around.

"Why are you so restless then." His eyes followed Jorginho. Everything seemed so off. The driver was driving above the speed limit. Jorginho was not communicating. If there was anything he hated the most, it was not being in control of a situation.

"The paparazzi, bro, are on our ass," He explained. "Take that turn." He told the driver, who did a sharp turn, and they were immediately under a bridge.

"Jorge, I will ask you again what the fuck is happening!" He raised his voice now, his eyes a burning flame. His lips pressed thinly, and his nose flared.

"I'm trying to explain, bro. The paparazzi are on our ass."

"But why goddamn it!" He hit the chair. His toed curled into a feral stance.

"Why else? They're trying to get exclusive pictures."

"Why don't we have security then? Instead of this pointless chase?" He exhaled, his face visibly relaxing.

"Because apparently, we're not only being chased by the papara...." He was saying when a loud blast sounded just ahead of them.

"What the fuck was that?" Markris jerked up, and his hands went straight to his pockets. He hissed when he realized he was not with his gun. Suddenly, he could sense the danger.

Another heavy blast sounded, and this time, it was closer to their car.

They're aiming at us." Jorginho said, ducking.

"No shit," Markris rolled his eyes. "Are the windows bulletproofed?" He said, unbuttoning his tux. He pulled it open and rolled his sleeves. He glanced at the shivering driver and knew they were in trouble if he didn't take control.

"Yes, but what are you doing?" Jorginho asked from the ground where he hid his head.

"Get up, princess. You're going to be my eyes. I'm taking the wheels," He announced, moving to the front of the car. He stopped and looked backward. "Get the fuck up, Jorge!"

"Damn!" Jorginho cussed, getting up.

"You," Markris pointed to the driver. "Move. I'll handle the car." The exchange was swift, and the driver went behind while Markris took charge of the steering, with Jorginho behind him.

A successive sporadic shot was fired, and one hit the car. "Fuck!" Markris cussed and began to speed forward.

"Where are we now, Jorge?" He asked, looking behind him.

"The back road to the Alcatraz." He said, setting up the map in the car.

"So basically, ten minutes away from my house, yeah?" He raised his voice, and just another shot hit the car.

"Yes."

"Good. Turn on the back camera. I want to see the car chasing us." He said, taking a swift left turn. His rippled muscles bulged as he swerved around. He knew this road like he knew his business and didn't need a map.