The motorcycle roars as Mickey twists the throttle, weaving through the darkened streets with the precision of a predator on the hunt—or in this case, one being hunted. The SUV looms behind them, its headlights slicing through the night like twin daggers. A gunshot cracks through the air, and Mickey jerks the bike to the side just in time to dodge the bullet.
“Does this guy ever run out of ammo?” Ziana shouts over the wind, her voice tinged with frustration and panic.
“Maybe if you ask nicely, he’ll stop shooting,” Mickey retorts, his tone laced with sarcasm. He swerves again, narrowly avoiding another shot. “In case it wasn’t obvious, holding on tighter might be a good idea.”
Ziana tightens her grip around his waist, her knuckles white against the leather of his jacket. The SUV acceler
