The armed helicopter thundered overhead, its massive rotors chopping the air with a deafening roar.
Even though Dominic and the others weren't the helicopter's target, just hearing that sound made their scalps tighten. The oppressive pressure pressed down on them like a weight, almost suffocating.
If it was this terrifying without even facing it directly, then what kind of crushing pressure was Leon—who was staring it down—enduring at this very moment?
Leon's response was simple, and shocking.
"Activate missile system," he said, his tone brimming with excitement.
Instead of retreating under pressure, the danger ignited his blood and sharpened his fighting spirit.
The Silver Marauder's hood split open again, and another sleek white missile emerged—the second one today. Just like before, the moment it was deployed, the missile locked onto the helicopter. The target was clear. The trajectory precise.
Locking onto a low-flying chopper was child's play for the Marauder's systems.
But the enemy wasn't idle either. The helicopter's sensors had already locked onto the Marauder. A missile tube flashed, flames erupting as a guided missile screamed toward Leon's car.
Its warhead aimed squarely at the front grille. Its trajectory unerring.
"Holy sh*t, that's bad news."
"God, I can't even watch this."
"He's finished, he's finished!"
"How the hell do you dodge that?!"
Countless spectators watching the stream clutched their chests, sweat beading on their foreheads. The tension was unbearable, as if they themselves were caught in the crosshairs.
This wasn't a cheap firework—it was a heat-seeking missile.
Powered by a vector engine, the kind usually mounted on rockets, it could reach speeds over a thousand kilometers per hour. Cars were nothing in comparison.
Once locked, only fighter jets had any hope of escape.
Everyone watching thought Leon was done for.
Everyone except Leon.
He just sneered. "Parlor tricks."
As the missile closed in, Leon suddenly slammed on the brakes and cranked the wheel. The Marauder drifted sideways, cutting the distance short by a hair.
The missile had no time to adjust its course. It smashed into the ground just ahead and detonated.
A blinding flash erupted, fire and searing heat blasting outward in a shockwave that swallowed the Marauder whole.
The car, already skidding sideways, was picked up and hurled into the air by the explosion.
Trish gasped, eyes squeezing shut, unable to bear watching Leon meet such an end. A car god blown apart by a helicopter missile—what a pathetic fate that would be.
Viewers screamed in horror, convinced it was over.
Only Letty, calm and unwavering, still had faith in him.
And she was right.
As the Marauder flipped through the air, Leon seized the moment. While the enemy was distracted, he fired off another white missile.
Then, with impossible grace, the Marauder landed on all four wheels, sliding into a perfect drift before stabilizing.
"Beautiful!" someone shouted.
The missile streaked toward the helicopter. The pilot cursed and yanked hard on the controls, the craft rolling sideways at the last second. The missile whizzed past, missing by a hair.
Or so he thought.
Before he could even celebrate, the missile banked hard in mid-air, turning back like a predator scenting blood.
"What?!" The pilot's face drained of color.
This wasn't a dumb fire rocket—it was a guided missile, the kind you only saw in military arsenals. How the hell did a street racer get his hands on this?
He cursed his greed. If he'd known Leon had this kind of backing, he never would've taken the money to hunt him.
Now, the payment was irrelevant. His life was over.
The missile slammed into the helicopter with a thunderous boom. A fireball blossomed in the sky, painting the night with searing orange.
The chopper's flaming wreckage spiraled down, crashing into the ground in a storm of debris and fire.
A car had just taken down a helicopter. One-on-one.
Unbelievable.
Exhilarating.
Leon smiled faintly, shifted gears, and hit the accelerator. He'd lost precious minutes in the fight and Dominic had gotten ahead. If he wanted to win, he'd need to claw that distance back.
Up ahead, Dominic stared into his rearview mirror, having witnessed every second of the helicopter's destruction. His heart pounded, a storm of emotions raging inside him.
He had never imagined anyone could bring down a military gunship with nothing but a car.
Normally, facing such a beast, drivers would scatter, using terrain to escape.
Leon hadn't dodged. He'd stood his ground—and won.
That shook Dominic to the core. He couldn't help but regard Leon with wary respect. A man who could field guided missiles was far more dangerous than any street racer.
He sighed. Whether Leon lost or won this race, he had already stolen the spotlight.
Vroooom!
The growl of a furious engine snapped him out of his thoughts. His heart skipped a beat as bright high beams cut through his mirror, aimed right at him.
It was the Silver Marauder, bearing down on him like a prehistoric beast.
The hunter had become the hunted.
Dominic's hands tightened on the wheel, his face paling. His Venom GT might be fast, but against that monster? It felt like running from a predator you could never hope to outrun.
Inside the Marauder, Leon drove with casual ease, exhilaration flooding through him.
This was cat and mouse. And he was the cat.
Dominic was already his. Victory was a matter of when, not if.
As the Venom's taillights gleamed ahead, Leon's lips curled into a smile of triumph.
The village road was ending. The open highway stretched ahead. And beyond that—San Francisco.
The finish line was in sight.
The moment of truth was almost here.
~~----------------------
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