The roar of gunfire rattled the air as the bikers opened up with their automatics, bullets streaking toward Leon. Even up in the helicopter, she could hear the crackling bursts.
Her legs trembled, her face pale with fright.
And this… this was just the firepower from the motorcycles. What about the five armored off-road trucks rumbling in formation? God only knew what heavier weapons they carried inside.
Her beautiful eyes shimmered with deep worry. Though she had never met Leon in person, she couldn't stop herself from fearing for him.
But all of her fears turned out unnecessary.
The micro-SMG rounds might have been lethal to people, but against the armored plating of the Silver Marauder, they were pitifully weak.
They couldn't even scratch its bulletproof glass. At most, the softer parts of the car's silver body might get a little paint scuffed.
Leon didn't flinch. His eyes were steady, his hands cool as he kept the Silver Marauder surging forward at blistering speed.
Bullets pinged and clanged off the glass, ricocheting harmlessly, not leaving so much as a crack.
"What kind of glass is this?" one of the hitmen gasped in disbelief.
Even military-grade bulletproof windows couldn't hold up like that. These bullets weren't even making hairline fractures. It was like shooting at steel!
A moment ago, the killers had been sneering at Leon. But the instant reality hit, the script flipped.
Leon's car was untouchable, tougher than a turtle shell. Their firepower couldn't do a thing. No wonder their last ambush had failed.
Inside the cockpit, Leon smirked faintly. He dropped the clutch, shifted up a gear, and the Silver Marauder roared forward with a surge of raw defiance.
The bikers panicked, their confidence cracking. They shrieked and swerved wildly, desperate to get out of the way of the steel beast charging at them.
Trying to smash a sports car with a motorcycle? That was suicide.
BANG!
One rider reacted too late. His bike collided head-on with the Silver Marauder.
The impact catapulted him into the windshield, blood spraying from his mouth before his body was brutally flung aside like a rag doll. He tumbled across the asphalt, rolling helplessly—
—and right into Dominic's path.
Dom's car thundered past, wheels crushing the man beneath with a sickening crunch. A so-called assassin, gone in an instant, never to rise again.
The men in the armored SUVs were rattled. Their nerves frayed, they whipped out pistols and opened fire in a frenzy. Bullets hammered the Silver Marauder like a torrential storm.
"Concentrate your fire! Take him out!" their leader bellowed.
Dozens of guns poured lead into the same target, weaving a dense net of destruction. Bullets lanced across the night like glowing threads, pelting the Silver Marauder over and over.
But trying to topple this monster with small-arms fire was like hurling pebbles at a mountain.
The Silver Marauder didn't slow, didn't falter. It simply devoured the bullets.
Meanwhile, Dominic wasn't nearly as lucky. Stray rounds clipped his ride, forcing him to jerk the wheel and back off, pulling his car toward the edge of the battlefield.
Even he didn't dare take this kind of fire head-on. If he tried to fight his way through, he'd be shredded before he could even escape.
But Leon? Leon alone had the audacity—and the machine—to tank it all.
"F**k… what the hell is that car?" Dominic muttered, staring in awe.
In the middle of the gunstorm, Leon didn't even swerve. He simply kept his foot down, his car shrugging off the hail of lead without a single dent. It was as if the entire machine had been forged from solid steel, untouchable and indestructible.
Even Dominic, hardened racer that he was, couldn't help the flicker of envy.
For drivers like him, the Silver Marauder was the ultimate fantasy—the kind of dream ride men would kill to possess.
"F**k this. Bring out the rocket launcher!" the frustrated gang leader roared.
Bullets weren't even leaving a scratch. They could fire until their magazines were empty, and it wouldn't matter. At this rate, their mission would end in humiliating failure.
The order barked out, and a thug leaned from the window of an SUV, hefting a rocket launcher onto his shoulder.
The grotesque warhead glinted under the streetlights, radiating a chilling menace.
If that missile hit, even an armored tank would struggle to survive, let alone a car.
"Just as planned," the man sneered, his lips curling into a cruel grin. He already pictured the Silver Marauder blowing apart in a fireball, Leon's body reduced to charred rubble.
And when it was done, he would be the hero who impressed Young Master Jesse. He would earn his patron's praise—and a mountain of cash.
For Jesse, heir of the San Francisco conglomerate, money was never an issue.
The thought made the thug giddy. He couldn't help but burst out in wild laughter.
The rocket launcher's appearance sent shockwaves across the field.
Up in the chopper, Trissy gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth, her wide eyes locked on the Silver Marauder in horror.
Machine guns were bad enough. But a rocket launcher? These maniacs were insane. Didn't they care about drawing in SWAT and unleashing hell on themselves?
Dominic's eyes went wide too. For someone to casually whip out heavy ordnance like this—it spoke volumes about the power of the forces Leon had crossed.
And privately, he couldn't help but think: Serves him right. Play with fire, get burned.
But Letty's heart seized with dread. She instinctively tightened her grip on the steering wheel, ready to ram her car at the rocket-bearing SUV to protect Leon.
"Don't move. Trust me."
Leon's calm voice crackled through her earpiece.
Just those few words were enough to steady her racing heart, warmth flooding her chest.
She bit her lip, nodded slightly, and kept her gaze locked on the Silver Marauder.
"Activate the missile system. One should be enough."
Leon's tone was utterly unshaken, as if he were ordering coffee instead of countering a rocket launcher.
The truth was, he had already prepped for scenarios like this. Three missiles lay ready in his arsenal—originally meant for Dominic and O'Neal if things came to a clash.
But tonight, they'd be tested on these thugs instead.
The car's onboard system whirred to life, responding instantly. Panels shifted, and a sleek compartment cracked open.
From within, a small white missile rose into view.
Delicate. Compact. Almost unassuming. It didn't look like much… but Leon knew even a single shot could obliterate an entire convoy.
"Target locked. Please press the red button to fire."
The central console rotated upward, revealing a panel with a single ominous switch.
The button glowed crimson, bold letters screaming a warning.
One press was all it would take.
As for how devastating the missile's power really was…
Even Leon himself was eager to find out.
~~----------------------
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