"Hold on," Max says to me, his voice deep and resolute, yet I still sense a trace of unease in it.
I grip the seat belt tightly, as if hoping this small detail can protect us from everything that might happen. I hear his breathing grow heavy, and in that moment I realize just how serious it all is. We are both in the center of this chaos, and I feel nervousness tightening my chest.
Max slams the pedal, and the car shoots forward as if it knows exactly what it has to do. Everything around me blurs into one rushing stream, only the flashes of streetlights and the wailing of sirens cutting through the haze. Patrol cars, like shadows, follow us, giving no break. A shiver runs down my spine — fear mixed with adrenaline pierces through me. Two more patrol cars chase after us, and I know we are on the edge.
"And what about Vi?" I ask him, trying to hide the rising worry in my voice. But with every word it becomes harder to breathe, and the thought that we might have left him behind tears at me.
"He'll take care of himself. If not, I'll pull him out later," Max answers, his voice cold and steady like ice.
"Some hero you are! And who's going to pull us out?" I can't hold back a cry, my voice breaking, trembling with fear. Unease grips my chest — it won't let me rest, and with every mile I feel this abyss we are falling into even stronger.
"Calm down. If it comes to it, I'll pull us out too. They won't keep us in the station for more than an hour anyway."
Max is so calm that his words almost drive me mad. His quiet confidence feels physical, like a frost that only deepens my anxiety.
I can't understand how he can be so careless. While chaos is raging around us, his cold-bloodedness makes me feel even more vulnerable.
We keep driving, and with each minute the feeling grows stronger that we are trapped. Everything seems like slow motion — every movement of the car, every maneuver Max makes feels drawn out and deliberate. But the problem is that more reinforcements arrive. We can't leave them behind anymore. My fingers dig into the seat, and a shiver runs through my body — fear grows as we are being cornered.
He manages to avoid several traps they set for us, each maneuver a struggle for our freedom. But when he jerks the wheel and breaks away from another car, the lump in my throat grows tighter. In those moments, it doesn't matter that I'm next to him — I want to scream, but fear seals the words. We can't let them catch us.
Finally, we break away and turn into one of the side streets. It is dark there, and silence seems to swallow us whole. In this narrow lane it feels like we've found shelter, but I know it's only a temporary pause. We can't relax. We are on the edge, and any wrong move can be our last.
I sit, breathing heavily, still trying to pull myself together. My chest is tight with tension, my hands trembling slightly, pulse pounding in my ears. It feels as if the whole world narrows down to throbbing veins and shaking fingers. The air is heavy with tension, like a storm cloud ready to burst.
Without a word, Max unbuckles his belt and leans toward me, pressing his lips to mine in a passionate, almost desperate kiss. His kiss is like a flash — a storm of emotions breaking free after everything we've been through. It isn't just a gesture — it is an attempt to drown fear, to soothe pain, to get lost in shared madness. And I answer him. I need it too. I want to feel something alive, real, something no siren, no chase, no adrenaline can take away. I want to merge with him in this moment, where nothing else matters.
Max strokes my cheeks, his touch growing gentler, softer. The kiss changes — from fierce and hungry to warm, almost comforting from within. It feels like he is relearning my lips, as if searching in them for an answer he fears to even put into words. I kiss him back — slowly, deeply. We are broken, but in this moment pieced together. I feel the distance between our hearts shrink, feel us becoming "us" again.
But happiness doesn't last. It is shattered by the howl of a siren tearing through the air like a cold blade. My heart skips a beat. The loud, merciless sound makes it clear — they have found us. That's it. We are surrounded.
Max tears himself away from me and slams his fist into the steering wheel with all his strength. The dull, painful thud sounds as if it isn't the wheel but he himself breaking inside. I flinch at the harshness of his movement, my heart squeezing painfully.
"Fuck!" he hisses through clenched teeth, his voice filled with everything: rage, disappointment, exhaustion, helplessness.
He doesn't shout, but his tone cuts the air like a knife. In this moment he doesn't just seem angry — he seems broken, as if all this running, all this risk wasn't for victory, but a desperate attempt to hold on to something that matters.
I look at him, not knowing what to say. I want to reach out, to hug him, to say it will be all right. But how? When outside there are sirens, shouts, commands aimed at us, at him, like a sentence. His shoulders tremble, even though he tries to look composed. He looks like a man driven into a corner. A man who always fights to the end, but this time — they leave him no choice. And that hurts the most.
"Get out of the car with your hands up," a soulless voice orders through the loudspeaker. There is no trace of compassion in it — only protocol and authority.
Max exhales, and without looking at me, obeys. I know he doesn't do it because he is afraid. He does it because it's necessary. Because for now, the worst can still be avoided. He raises his hands and steps out of the car.
"Lie face down on the ground with your hands behind your back," the loudspeaker echoes again.
I watch as he lies down on the ground without a word. His fists clench behind his back, but he doesn't resist — he simply accepts what is now inevitable. Two officers approach him quickly, efficiently. They snap the handcuffs on. Lead him away.
When one of the officers comes up to me, I feel my knees betray me and grow weak.
"Step out of the car," he says firmly, without emotion.
I nod and open the door. The world around me seems to fade. Cold air cuts my face, and that finally wakes me up, making me realize the horror of the situation. My heart pounds in a frantic rhythm, fear crashing over me like an icy wave.
"I won't lie down on the ground, if possible," I say. I don't beg, I just ask — calmly, as much as I can.
I put my hands behind my back and turn to him. They put handcuffs on me too and place me in the car next to Max. The metal burns my wrists with its cold, and my heart beats so hard it feels like it will burst out. Everything inside me screams — from fear, from exhaustion, from betrayal.
"Katrin…" Max begins quietly, almost guiltily. His voice trembles, though he tries to stay composed.
"Shut up!" I burst out with rage, like a strike. I can't hold back the storm inside me any longer. Pain, fear, and anger mix into an explosive wave. "Just shut up."
He swallows, but he doesn't stay silent.
"They won't keep us long. I'll fix this…" he goes on, as if he really believes it — or at least wants me to believe.
"Shut your mouth! I don't want to talk to you," I hiss and throw him a look full of anger and hurt. Everything inside me is boiling.
How could he drag me into this? How could he let it all end this way? These questions stab at my mind like needles, one after another, without stopping. I look at him like he's a stranger. Like a man I thought I knew… but maybe never truly knew.
Max looks away. His lips press tightly together, his jaw clenches — as if he is holding back something he doesn't dare release. He stares out the window, searching there for salvation, for an exit, or maybe just a way to escape — even if only in his thoughts.
But I see it: he breaks. Even he. Even this confident, defiant, unshakable Max can't bear my gaze full of pain and betrayal. And good. He should feel ashamed. At least one of us should carry the guilt for all this. Because I can't handle what I feel anymore.
Silence hangs between us — heavy, suffocating. A silence without love, without faith, not even anger. Only emptiness. We ride to the station, and the silence in the car is crushing. No one tries to speak. I stare ahead, not even blinking — as if by staying still enough, all this will turn into a dream. But it is reality. Cruel and cold.
When we are brought into the station, they immediately separate us into different rooms. I am left alone. A cold lamp shines above, its light hitting straight into my eyes. They start filling out paperwork, asking questions, writing things down. I barely hear what they say. Everything feels not mine, as if I am watching it from the outside. I start to shake. At first barely, then stronger. My fingers clench on their own, my breath turns ragged. Panic crashes over me like a wave. I can't think, I can't speak. Only one thought pounds in my head like a bell: prison… Mary… I won't see her again… My little girl. My sunshine. And if they lock me up? Who will be with her? Who will kiss her goodnight and tell her everything is going to be okay?
I have never been so angry at Max as I am today. I don't recognize him. I never thought he was capable of bringing us to this. He always seemed like the one in control. And now — he has dragged me into the worst nightmare.
If my grandmother knew, if she saw this… she wouldn't hold back. She would scold and punish both me and him. Shame. Bitter, corroding. I want to disappear. Just disappear and forget it all.