The bullet didn’t hit the tire. It struck the asphalt inches behind the Norton, a white-hot spark that hissed as it bit into the road. My father wasn't aiming for a kill shot; he was ranging us. As we banked into a hard left toward the expressway, I looked back one last time. Chen Wei stood on the rooftop, his silhouette framed by the flashing red and blue strobe lights of the federal blockade. He lowered his rifle, not because he had missed, but because his job was done.
The perimeter of the Unified Nations had held just long enough. We burst through the final gap in the blockade, the roar of a thousand bikes acting as a sonic shield against the orders being barked from the helicopters.
"Dax, we have to move!" I screamed over the wind. "The ledger won't hold them forever if they realize
