The Rezvani rolled smooth over the cracked asphalt, its armored weight making the broken road feel like gravel under a tank. Riku's eyes stayed sharp, sweeping the mirrors every few seconds. The city was quiet, too quiet, and quiet always meant trouble.
He cut around a corner, past a pharmacy with shattered glass like teeth and a bus frozen in the middle of the intersection. Then he saw it.
Three cars.
They weren't just wrecks—these had been placed. Angled across the road, their frames overlapping, making a wall of steel and rust. One was a sedan stripped of its doors. Another a pickup with its hood open, engine gutted. And at the center, a car unlike the others—armored, spiked at the front, its grille smeared with old blood.
A chill crawled down Riku's spine. This wasn't random. Someone set this up.
He slowed the Rezvani to a crawl, engine growling low. His hand hovered near the gear shift, ready to slam into reverse if he saw movement.
"Shit," he muttered. "Ambush."
