Vivian drove straight out of the underground garage and headed toward the outskirts.
In the rearview mirror, a truck could be faintly seen tailing her.
"Boss, that chick’s not driving fast, more like out for a joyride, but she’s not heading downtown," the buzz-cut guy in the truck said, holding a walkie-talkie.
"Why the hell do you care where she’s going, i***t? All you need to do is make her speed up!" came the angry reply.
They’d already tampered with her brakes—once she hit over 70 km/h, a crash was basically guaranteed.
"Got it, boss," the buzz-cut guy replied, pressing harder on the gas to catch up.
As he got closer to Vivian’s car, he stuck his head out and shouted, "Outta gas or what? Driving like a snail!"
Most average women drivers would freak out and instin
