Marina drove for the highway back to Sofia.
The Mercedes roared up behind us, lights flashing, horn blaring. Alarmed, my eyes went to the rear view mirror.
“Pull over, Marina. It’s Vlad’s guys.”

My writing is supported by people like you. The remainder of this post is reserved for Members. Membership costs £12 per year. For this princely sum, you will get access to subscriber only posts, direct access to a members chatroom , and a digital copy of any and all work that I publish in the year. Become a member.