NIKO.
My grip tightened on the steering wheel the moment I noticed the car. It was a black sedan with tinted windows. Same distance. Same stubborn persistence. I had seen enough hostile takeovers and ugly negotiations to recognize when something or someone wasn't a coincidence. At first, I had told myself it was nothing. City traffic did that sometimes. Same turns. Same lights. Same pace.
But this? This was intentional.
I pressed the accelerator slightly, careful not to alarm Alex too soon. The engine responded smoothly, but the sedan did too, matching my speed like it had been waiting for the cue.
Beside me, Alex shifted. “Niko?”
I didn’t answer. My eyes stayed locked on the road, scanning mirrors, exits, angles. I was hyperfocused now, my mind narrowing into the cold, sharp place it
