The sedan was gaining.
Rain kissed the windshield in cold sheets, the wipers screeching in protest as Gavin gripped the wheel tighter. His wife sat tense beside him, their child in the back seat clinging to a stuffed rabbit, lips trembling.
"They're still behind us," his wife said, voice shaking.
Gavin pressed the phone to his ear. "Alina, we're on Eastview—just passed the underpass. Black sedan's still tailing us."
Alina's voice crackled through. "I've got units rerouting. Try to hit the highway. Don't stop. I'm on my way."
Gavin veered into a side street, hoping to lose them.
But the sedan surged ahead and cut across their path. Tires screamed. Gavin swerved. Metal scraped metal as the sedan clipped their rear. They skidded sideways before halting with a jolt near the highway shoulder.
"Everyone okay?" Gavin rasped.
His wife nodded, shielding their child.
A shadow moved.
The man in black exited the sedan, boots echoing against wet asphalt. He approached slowly, like a predator savoring the moment. The overhead highway lights cast a stark silhouette. The moon hid behind thick clouds.
He raised a hand—ready to smash the window—
—but a roar split the night.
A motorbike.
It skidded into view, the rider springing off in one fluid motion. Leather jacket glinting, he tackled the man away from the car. Fists flew. The two men crashed against the concrete, throwing each other with brutal precision. No wasted movement—both trained, both deadly.
Inside the car, the baby cried. Gavin's child clung to their mother.
The hitman broke away, reached for something—
A gun.
The biker lunged, kicking the weapon free. It clattered across the road. He landed a punch that rattled bones.
The hitman tried to flee, but the biker grabbed his coat, yanking him back. The hitman shed the coat, desperate. The biker flung it aside. Their brawl continued—fierce, savage—until the hitman finally crumpled, motionless.
The biker panted, blood running from his brow. He approached Gavin's window and tapped lightly.
Gavin lowered it, still trembling.
The man handed over a slick, black key card from the hitman's coat's pocket. No words. Just a steady look.
"Give this to the Chief Inspector," he said. "Tell no one else."
"Wait—what's your name?" Gavin asked.
The man stepped back without answering.
He approached the sedan and searched it swiftly—glove compartment, under seats—then carefully planted a small device beneath the dashboard.
Gavin saw the hitman. "Hey! Behind you!"
Too late.
The hitman stirred—lashed out with a final strike.
A sickening crack as the hitman's fist caught the biker's temple—he staggered, dazed. The hitman jumped into the car, floored it, and disappeared into the night.
A second vehicle appeared—Alina's.
Their savior glanced back once before turning his bike around. The roar of the engine swallowed the silence as he vanished into the night, leaving Gavin's family behind.
Alina skidded to a stop beside them, door flinging open, weapon drawn.
"Gavin! Are you hurt?"
He opened the door slowly. "We're okay... just shaken."
Alina swept the scene with her eyes, noting the scattered coat and blood trail. She radioed for backup.
Another car approaches them, it was an SUV. Eldric steps out and ran toward them.
"We need to get your family to a safehouse now. Come with me."
Eldric leaned over the table as Gavin recounted everything. Alina stood nearby, arms crossed, listening intently.
"The officers you sent warned us immediately that night. We packed as quickly as possible, trying to save ourselves and drove fast. Then the black sedan appeared... We tried to get away. It hit us. The man came for us... Then the biker showed up. He fought him off. He saved us."
He placed the key card on the table. It was sleek, luxurious, and embossed with a sharp, minimalist logo.
Eldric picked it up, frowning. "This trademark..."
Alina's eyes narrowed. "It's from Lucent Gate. That exclusive club—underground, elite. High-profile members, politicians, industrialists. No one touches them."
Eldric's gaze darkened. "Until now."
The room fell into silence.
A storm had broken—but the flood was just beginning.