Engines still echoed in his bones long after Zubair punched the truck across the bridge.
Elias sat in the back seat, shoulder pressed against the rattling glass, pulse steady in his throat. His team didn't need words; they had already read each other's weight.
Zubair's hands locked on the wheel, Lachlan's restless knee bouncing, Alexei's grin tilting toward something sharp.
And Sera—blood still on her mouth, Luci laying on top of her thighs—looked like she had finally drawn a full breath for the first time in a while.
Everyone in the cab was reaction to her newfound sense of peace, and everyone felt their tension slip away.
But behind them, the hornet's nest stirred.
Elias angled the mirror.
The riders hadn't scattered for long. They were regrouping, furious, engines snarling into rhythm like wolves remembering their hunger.
Dirt bikes darted at the edges, trucks hauling muscle, flatbeds with rifles glinting in the sunlight. It wasn't elegant.
