Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System! - Chapter 261

Chapter 261: (1980)Luciano Wilder—Val
1980 – New York City

Luciano Wilder was fucked.

Not in the good way, either. This was the bleeding-out, running-for-your-life, heart-pounding-in-your-damn-throat kinda fucked. His $3,000 suit? Ruined. Torn at the knees, splattered with grime from the filthy New York streets. His loafers? Not made for sprinting. But right now? He didn’t have a damn choice.

Behind him, three pissed-off bastards in slick Armani suits were gaining.

BANG!

A shot cracked the night open. A window exploded, raining glass onto the sidewalk. A woman screamed. A guy in a taxi ducked so fast he hit his own horn.

“RUN ALL YOU WANT, WILDER! YOU’RE A DEAD MAN!” one of them roared.

“No shit, genius!” Luciano didn’t need a play-by-play—he was the one bleeding from a goddamn bullet wound in his side! His breath came in sharp gasps as he dodged past a food cart, knocking it over. Hot dogs and pretzels scattered everywhere, the vendor cursing him out in two different languages.

He didn’t stop.

He couldn’t stop.

New York’s streets at night were their own special kind of hell—bright, loud, and absolutely unforgiving. The neon lights of strip clubs and bars flickered like the city was laughing at his misery.

Another gunshot. Closer.

Luciano gritted his teeth. His legs burned, lungs felt like they were gonna explode, but he kept going. He bolted down an alley, nearly slipping on a pile of trash. Behind him, the gunmen weren’t slowing down.

Then—

Pain. Hot, white pain.

A second bullet tore into his shoulder, nearly sending him face-first into the pavement. He stumbled, hit a dumpster, and groaned.

“Motherfucker…” His head spun. Blood soaked through his expensive suit. He could hear the bastards getting closer. Their footsteps. Their breath. The click of a gun being reloaded.

This was it.

Luciano pressed himself against the dumpster, swallowing back the pain. One of them—tall, blond, real piece of shit—walked up, cocking his pistol.

“End of the road, Wilder.”

Luciano chuckled, spitting out blood. “Hey, least I made it entertaining for ya.”

Blondie smirked. “Yeah. You did.”

Then—

SCREEEEECH.

A black motorcycle came outta nowhere, slamming into Blondie’s back.The dude went flying, flipping twice before landing in a trash pile.

Before Luciano could even process what the fuck just happened, the rider—a woman, all leather and fury—kicked her leg over the bike and pulled out two silver-plated pistols.

“Hey, assholes!” she called out, voice dripping with attitude. The other two gunmen barely turned before she emptied both clips.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

One went spinning like a drunk ballerina, crashing into a newspaper stand. The other got clipped in the leg, collapsing with a scream.

Luciano, still flat on his back, blinked. “…Am I dead? Is this what heaven looks like?”

The woman strolled over, towering above him. Dark hair. A smirk sharp enough to cut glass.

“Nah, honey.” She squatted down, pressing a gloved hand to his wound. Hard.

Luciano screamed.

“You’re alive. For now.”

He hissed through his teeth. “What the fuck are you? A guardian angel?” She laughed. Loud. Cocky. Like she ate danger for breakfast.

“Nah, sweetheart. I’m the devil your enemies should’ve been prayin’ to.” Then, before he could argue—

She hauled his half-dead ass onto the back of her bike.

“Hold on, rich boy. Unless you wanna get smeared across Times Square.”

Luciano, bleeding out but still with standards, groaned. “At least buy me dinner first…” She just revved the engine.

And in the next heartbeat, they were gone—leaving chaos, bodies, and one very confused trash-covered Blondie in their dust.

But It Wasn’t Over.

*

Luciano’s head throbbed. The wind roared around them as the bike shot through the streets, dodging cars, running red lights. His blood loss was making him loopy, but fuck if this wasn’t the most exciting night of his life.

He barely processed where they were going until—

More headlights.

Another car—a black sedan, no plates, classic bad guy shit—came flying outta a side street.

His rescuer cursed, yanking the bike sideways as bullets peppered the pavement. “FUCK!” Luciano shouted, gripping her waist. “I THOUGHT YOU KILLED THOSE BASTARDS!”

“Apparently, they got cousins!” she shot back, eyes narrowing.

The chase was back on.

Luciano’s vision blurred, the pain in his shoulder turning into fire. He had a sinking feeling this woman was his only shot at getting outta this alive.

“Hey,” he rasped, forcing a grin despite the pain. “You got a name, or should I just keep callin’ you ‘badass on a bike’?”

She smirked. “You can call me… Val.”

Luciano chuckled, despite himself. “Val, huh? Well, sweetheart, if we make it outta this, drinks are on me.”

She gunned the throttle.

“If we make it outta this,” she said, “you’re gonna owe me a hell of a lot more than drinks, rich boy.” Luciano laughed. Because honestly? She was probably right.

The engine roared as Val gunned the throttle, and the motorcycle shot forward like a bat outta hell. Behind them, the black sedan skidded onto the street, tires screeching, headlights blazing, and—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Bullets ripped through the air, one zipping so close to Luciano’s head that he felt his damn hair move.

“FUCK—THEY’RE SHOOTING AT US!” Luciano bellowed, gripping onto Val for dear life.

“No shit, genius!” she yelled back, weaving through traffic like a woman with zero regard for human laws.

Luciano gritted his teeth, trying not to pass out from blood loss. “I THOUGHT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE SAVING ME—NOT GETTING ME KILLED AT A HUNDRED FUCKIN’ MILES PER HOUR!”

Val laughed like this was a goddamn rollercoaster ride. “Quit whining, rich boy! I’m giving you an adventure! Dumbass”

Another round of gunfire. A bullet pinged off a streetlamp. Another shattered the mirror of a passing cab.

The cabbie stuck his head out. “AYE, FUCK YOU, ASSHOLES!”

“Love this city,” Val muttered, cutting between two buses so tight that Luciano swore he could hear the paint scratching.

The black sedan kept up, its goons hanging out the windows, trying to get a clean shot.

“WE GOTTA LOSE THESE FUCKERS!” Luciano shouted.

“OH, REALLY? HADN’T OCCURRED TO ME!” Val rolled her eyes shouting sarcastically as she swerved into an alley so narrow it looked like a death sentence.

Luciano’s heart damn near jumped out his throat. “NO—NO—NO—”

They squeezed through, the bike barely fitting. The sedan?