The shot cracked once, swallowed by engine noise and cheering.

The gun flew out of the passenger's hand before he understood he had lost it.

Kane looked over. "Subtle."

"He was aiming at her."

"That wasn't a criticism."

Below, Nyra glanced up for half a second as if she had felt the bullet pass through the night.

She couldn't have.

Still, her eyes flicked toward the rooftops.

Ghost held still.

Then she smiled.

Very briefly.

Very dangerously.

Like she knew trouble was nearby and planned to be worse.

The Mustang surged.

Nyra slammed into third, cut between Razor and the remaining flank car, and forced both toward the rail yard turn.

Razor's brake lights flashed too early.

Trap point.

Ghost saw the black van pull from behind a storage container.

No headlights.

Side door already open.

Men inside.

Kane swore. "Contact."

Ghost was already moving.

"Roof team advancing," he said into comms.

Lucas came through immediately. "I've got cameras. Two vans, maybe six hostiles. Hollow Sun patch on one guy's jacket."

Nyra took the turn wide.

Too wide.

The van blocked the road.

Razor braked hard and slid sideways, leaving her nowhere clean to go.

For half a second, she had three options.

Crash into Razor.

Crash into the van.

Go into the canal.

Nyra chose the fourth option.

She drove straight at the narrow gap between the Challenger's rear bumper and the van's open door, clipped both mirrors, and forced the Mustang through with a scream of tearing metal.

The crowd exploded.

Kane actually laughed once. "Jesus."

Ghost did not.

Because the second van was waiting beyond the rail yard.

This one had a mounted light bar.

It flared white.

Nyra's Mustang fishtailed.

Razor's voice came over an open channel Lucas had hacked.

"Box her in. Alive."

Ghost stopped thinking.

The rifle came up.

One shot took out the van's front tire.

The vehicle lurched sideways, slamming into a stack of pallets.

Nyra recovered fast, but the Challenger rammed her rear quarter panel. The Mustang spun across the asphalt, hit a barrier, and came to a brutal stop.

Ghost was already off the roof before Kane finished saying his name.

Nyra's ears rang.

For a moment, all she tasted was blood and burnt rubber.

The Mustang groaned around her.

"Baby," she rasped, patting the steering wheel once. "I know. I'm offended too."

A man yanked her door open.

She punched him in the throat before he could speak.

Another grabbed her hair.

Nyra slammed her elbow backward and heard cartilage break.

Razor appeared through the smoke, gun in hand, smile gone now.

"You should've stayed in your garage."

Nyra spat blood onto the asphalt.

"You should've picked a better hobby."

He raised the gun.

Then everything behind him went silent.

Not quiet.

Silent.

The kind of silence that made survival instincts kneel.

Razor's face changed.

Nyra looked past him.

Ghost walked out of the smoke.

Black tactical gear. Skull mask. Rifle low in one hand.

No hurry.

No wasted motion.

Every man near the wreck suddenly remembered urgent business elsewhere.

Razor swallowed.

Ghost stopped beside Nyra's crushed Mustang, grey eyes fixed on the man with the gun.

"Drop it."

Razor laughed once.

Badly.

"You don't know who I work for."

Ghost tilted his head.

"No," he said. "But I know how many bones you have."

Nyra, still half-trapped in the driver's seat, blinked.

Then looked at Razor.

"Honestly, I'd listen. He seems like a bone guy."

Kane appeared behind Ghost, weapon raised, looking deeply exhausted already.

"Nyra Quinn," he snapped, "do you have any idea how much trouble you are?"

She wiped blood from her lip with the back of her hand.

"Most men start with hello."

Ghost's gaze dropped to her.

Torn jacket.

Blood at her mouth.

Seatbelt bruising already forming near her collarbone.

Alive.

Too close.

Something dark moved through him, precise and violent.

Nyra saw it.

For once, she didn't joke.

Not immediately.

Ghost reached down and tore the jammed door wider with one brutal pull of metal.

Nyra stared.

"…That was my door."

"You were trapped."

"I was emotionally attached to that door."

"Get out."

She took his hand when he offered it.

Only for balance.

Obviously.

His glove closed around her fingers.

The contact lasted two seconds.

Maybe less.

It hit Ghost harder than gunfire.

Nyra stepped onto the asphalt, swayed once, and pretended not to.

Ghost noticed.

Of course he noticed.

Razor chose that moment to run.

He made it three steps before Kane tackled him into the side of the Challenger.

Nyra winced. "Oof. That looked personal."

Kane cuffed him hard. "It is becoming personal."

Ghost still hadn't released Nyra's hand.

She looked down.

Then up.

"Planning to keep that?"

His grip loosened immediately.

But he didn't step away.

Behind them, Lucas's voice crackled through Kane's comm.

"Good news. Razor's phone has Hollow Sun contacts. Bad news, more vehicles incoming."

Nyra's eyes sharpened.

"Hollow Sun?"

Ghost looked at her.

"No."

She actually laughed.

Blood on her lip.

Smoke in her hair.

Fury in her eyes.

"You have got to stop saying that like it works."

Headlights appeared at the far end of the road.

Three vehicles.

Fast.

Kane hauled Razor upright. "Ghost."

Ghost turned toward the incoming lights.

Then back to Nyra.

"Stay behind me."

Nyra glanced at the wrecked Mustang.

Then at the oncoming convoy.

Then at Ghost.

Her smile was all teeth.

"Not really my brand."

And somewhere in the distance, the first gunshot cracked through the night.