Rear Window Novels & Stories

The fancy interior surprised him; there were beige colored leather seats, a high tech board, and tinted windows in the back. “Are you sure it’s alright?” Eric calmly asked before he started the vehicle. Harry hummed and closed his eyes, “as long as I get the hell out of this place.”

Winter stood by the car door, her eyes locked on the man inside. “Fine. Say it.” What could he possibly need to tell her in private? Chris’s gaze flicked to the tip of her nose, red from the cold. A snowflake landed on her cheek and melted right away. “Get in.” He rolled the window up again. Winter gritted her teeth at the tinted glass. She walked around the front of the car, yanked open the rear door, and climbed in.

Anya’s POV: “Bang! There was a loud sound. I was driving when I suddenly jolted forward. The seat belt quickly tied me to the seat. It seemed that I had been rear-ended. Fortunately, the car was not moving too fast. Otherwise, my car would have flipped over. I calmed myself down and immediately stopped the car. I was about to get out of the car to check! Through the rearview mirror, I saw the car behind me was Aston Martin.

"See? She likes the name. Right, Poppy?" After a well-deserved bonding time with Poppy, Jackson finally looked around the inside of the car and immediately became obsessed with the back seats. Right at the back of the front seats, there were big screen compartments. The car had a black and white theme inside, and it had to be the best thing for Jackson. Right between the two backseats, there was also a glass compartment that had four crystal champagne glasses that Jackson obsessed about. "Oh my, this is the best," Jackson smiled widely, brushing the seats while he held Poppy with one hand. "A friendly announcement that only I ride this baby," he said, looking at all of us.

He glanced at me through the rear view mirror. “Turn.” I met his gaze, speaking slowly so he heard me clearly, my displeasure reflected back at me through the rectangular glass. “Around.” I gitted in a leveled voice. He snapped out of whatever daze he was in. He made a swift U-turn, jerking the car in the opposite direction, the force enough to pull me towards the window.

The rear window descended. Maison looked out, his face unreadable in the dim interior light. “Get in.” I slid into the butter-soft leather seat. The door closed with a hushed, expensive thud, sealing us in a capsule of quiet luxury. The partition was up. The driver, a professional ghost behind the wheel, pulled smoothly into traffic. Maison didn’t ask questions. He didn’t look at me with pity or curiosity. He simply handed me a bottle of water from a discreet cooler. “Drink.”

Evander said, guiding me into the back seat before sliding in right next to me. The heavy doors shut with a solid, airtight thud, completely cutting off the noise of the garage. As the vehicle pulled out into the dark gray downpour of the afternoon street, I watched the raindrops smear across the tinted glass. The city looked blurred, a messy wash of brake lights and towering shadows.

Rows of illuminating lights passed over the windshield, creating rapidly - moving light and shadow patterns inside the car. The assistant in the front seat tensed his back. He turned his head and stared into the central rear - view mirror. Two all - black, unlicensed heavy - duty Hummer SUVs appeared behind them. The Hummers accelerated, their front bumpers ramming through two family sedans. The taillights of the sedans shattered, and plastic casings scattered across the ground. The Hummers closed in on the rear of the Rolls - Royce. The two vehicles quickly took up positions, blocking the left and right lanes respectively.

Another cracked the side mirror of the car as I wrenched the door open and threw myself inside. Riven came in a low, violent rush two seconds later. He fired behind him without looking, dropped into the driver’s seat, and turned the engine over while still kicking the door shut. The rear window starred and then exploded inward as he slammed the car into reverse. “Down.” I folded into the footwell. Glass rained across the seats. Riven spun the wheel, switched to forward, and accelerated between two container rows with the engine screaming. A final spray of rounds chased us until the pier gate and the open road beyond.

I leaned my weight forward, set the socket against the rear axle nut, and pulled until the wrench gave a sharp, metallic click. Across the bay, the main glass display window offered a clear view of the street out front. Every few minutes, a slow-moving sedan would crawl past the driveway, its passenger-side window rolled down halfway, someone pointing a dark smartphone screen toward the open garage doors before speeding off into the overcast morning.