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“Glad you said that.”
He slams the gas.
The truck roars forward.
The sedan sticks with us.
Right on our side.
Trying again—
Another swerve.
Metal screams as it clips the rear panel.
Tessa gasps beside me.
I grab her hand without thinking.
“I’ve got you,” I say.
Always.
Blaze cuts left, then right, forcing them to adjust.
“They’re aggressive,” Trigger says. “Not trained.”
“Desperate,” I correct.
That’s worse.
We hit a narrow stretch.
One lane.
Rock on one side.
Drop on the other.
The sedan tries again.
Overcommits.
Clips the edge—
Sparks fly.
“Now!” I snap.
Blaze accelerates hard.
The truck surges forward.
The sedan falls back.
Struggling.
Losing ground.
