The leader of the gang and his goons were surprised by the sudden movement of the car Riku was driving.
"Fire!"
The bald man's voice cut like a whip, and instantly crackled of gunfire filled the air.
Sparks skittered across the Rezvani's armored plating as bullets hammered into its sides, pinging like hail against steel. The windshield bloomed with spiderweb cracks, but the reinforced laminate held.
Riku's jaw tightened. The wheel vibrated under his grip, but the SUV pushed forward like a beast unfazed. The Rezvani was built for war—civilian luxury on the outside, military bones within. These bastards could dump a magazine each and it would still shrug them off.
He swerved the tank-like SUV toward the pickup, clipping its fender. The vehicle crunched sideways with a metallic scream, one of the armed men stumbling back with a curse.
That was when the walkie-talkie on the dash erupted again, Hana's panicked voice tearing through the static.
