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Controlled.
Untouched by the chaos around him.
Like the crash behind me means nothing.
Like the bodies on the ground are just—
collateral.
I keep my weapon trained on him.
Steady.
Unwavering.
“End of the road,” he says.
Almost conversational.
I tilt my head slightly.
“Funny,” I reply.
“I don’t remember asking for directions.”
His lips twitch.
Not quite a smile.
More like recognition.
“You’ve always had a mouth on you,” he says.
“And you’ve always talked too much,” I fire back.
But my mind?
Already moving.
Tracking.
Counting.
Two men to his left.
One to the right.
Another behind the vehicle.
Weapons up.
Angles covered.
No clean exit.
Good.
I shift my stance just slightly.
