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“That’s cool,” said Alex, jerking his head back. “I can take her in the Challenger. It’s parked around the corner.” He nodded back at Hal and then to Kana. “One of you guys can go with him—”

“No,” said Snowy. She wrenched against Alex’s hold. He pulled her back without breaking stride. She bared her teeth at him. “There’s no way I’m going to spend the rest of my time with this guy.”

Ken held his hand out. “Then I’ll drive—”

Snowy jerked away from him and raised her nose high in disgust. “No!” She gazed at Jun through the windshield. “If I’m going to be kidnapped, I’d prefer to be with that one.” She flashed Jun a sweet grin, as if she were selling him something.

Jun’s mouth went dry. Why him?

Nobody objected. Alex dragged Snowy over to the open passenger door and threw her in.

Snowy gasped. Jun also gasped, just as shocked. Alex took the seat belt and spread it over her body and clicked his tongue at Jun. “Buckle it for me, will ya? Gotta make sure our VIP gets the safest treatment.”

“Fuck you.”

Jun grabbed the buckle and clicked it in place.

Alex chuckled. “I’d like to see you try, pony.” Alex slammed the door. Snowy yelped and flinched back as it barely cleared her nose. He smirked through the window and saluted Jun. “See you at the garage, dude!”

As the crew jogged towards the street, a bright flash caught the corner of Jun’s eye.

He turned. Nothing but parked cars and a brick wall that separated the lots. No one visible. The single lamppost stood dark. It wouldn’t be on at this hour. Jun scanned the vehicles—the windows, the gaps between bumpers. Nothing. But the prickling at the back of his neck didn’t stop.

“What are you doing?”

Jun almost jumped in his seat. He forgot about the strange, beautiful woman.

“Thought I saw something,” said Jun, glancing back at the parking lot.

“Uh, okay?” Snowy said—less a question than an announcement of her annoyance.

“Sorry,” said Jun, and he quickly started the car. A jazz guitar plucked softly behind a woman’s voice, harmonizing in Mandarin along the warm timbre of the strings.

They waited at the end of the driveway for a gap in traffic, the song swelling into its chorus—something about a precious memory that would never fade.

Snowy stared at the stereo for a moment, like she was studying the singer’s voice. “Do you speak Mandarin?” she asked.

Jun turned the car onto the street. “Yes,” he answered. He hoped she wouldn’t dig further. The last thing he needed was to give away more of himself to a stranger—again.

Snowy didn’t say anything until they reached the first red light. “I used to listen to her a lot when I was younger,” she said in Mandarin. “She was the main reason why I wanted to become a singer.”

Jun couldn’t remember the last time someone spoke to him in his native language. Something in him loosened. The tension he carried in his jaw, his shoulders, the constant mental translation—all of it eased. Mandarin didn’t require him to perform. It just let him be.

“I’m glad you like her too,” he said.

“I’ve never met anyone else that listens to her,” said Snowy softly. The light turned green, and he steered onto the ramp towards 101. “How did you discover her?”

The Vanquish rolled up the ramp, merging into the thinning freeway traffic. Jun weaved through the remaining congestion, weighing whether to say what was already forming on his tongue. He barely talked about his family to people he trusted, let alone someone in handcuffs.

“She was my mom.”

Snowy gasped. “Really?” A pause. When he didn’t respond, she went back to staring straight ahead. “I’m sorry,” she said in English.

Jun laughed. The thought pulled another one behind it, the way it always did—Ruki, promising they’d go back to Taiwan together to visit her grave. The memory ached, but Jun had gotten faster at shutting the door on it.

“It’s okay,” he said.

They let his mother’s jazz tunes fill the silence as they drove through traffic.