Chapter 6 - Unlikely Allies
The force of the grip yanked Clara off her feet, slamming her onto the gravelly threshold of the loading dock. She rolled immediately, ready to gouge, bite, or tear at her attacker, but the face looking down at her wasn't the man in the charcoal coat. It was a woman with severe features, a grease-stained mechanic's jumpsuit, and cold gray eyes that took in the situation with instant comprehension.
""Shut up and move,"" the woman hissed, hauling Clara up by her arm with surprising strength.
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Before Clara could protest, the woman shoved her behind the cab of an idling flatbed tow truck parked against the loading bay. Inside the warehouse, the sharp crack of another gunshot shattered the silence, punching a hole through the rusted sheet metal inches from where they stood. The mechanic reached into her jumpsuit, pulled a small smoke canister, ripped the pin with her teeth, and hurled it through the open door. Thick, acrid gray smoke billowed instantaneously, filling the entryway with an impenetrable fog.
""Get in the passenger side,"" the woman commanded, sprinting toward the driver’s door. Clara didn't hesitate. She scrambled inside, slamming the heavy door just as the tow truck roared to life, its diesel engine roaring like a wounded beast. As they accelerated down the narrow alleyway, Clara caught a glimpse of the woman’s wrist: an identical snake tattoo to the one Mark had branded onto his left forearm.
