Gripping the headrest in front of me, I twisted around, angling my body to look through the tinted rear glass.
What I saw made my stomach drop.
Three black sedans.
Low. Sleek.
Unmarked.
They closed the distance with frightening speed, engines growling low and aggressive as they surged forward like predators that had already locked onto prey.
“Call it in,” I said, my voice tight but controlled. “Now.”
The soldier’s thumb pressed harder against the comms.
But before he could even finish the transmission—
Everything changed.
The lead car surged forward.
And rammed us.
The impact hit like a hammer.
Metal screamed.
My entire body was thrown forward violently, restrained only by the seatbelt digging painfully into my chest.
The force knocked the breath out of me.
For a split second—everything blurred.
The SUV lurched.
Fishtailed.
The driver fought for control, hands tight on the wheel as the tires screeched violently against asphalt.
“Hold on!” he barked, though it sounded strained even to him.
He wrenched the steering wheel, trying to stabilize the vehicle.
The tires bit back into the road—
but we were already losing momentum.
“Did you get through?” I forced out, my voice thin, breath uneven.
No answer.
His knuckles were white against the steering wheel.
His eyes darted—mirrors, road, mirrors again.
Assessing. Calculating.
Trying to survive.
