Chapter 1610:


    Chris followed immediately, but the moment he grabbed the car door, he froze.


    Something felt wrong.


    His gaze swept the area — the clearing, the rubble, his subordinates, the vehicles — and then he understood what was missing.


    One person.


    “Maia?” he called into the dark.


    No response.


    “Maia!” He called again, louder, his voice shaking despite himself.


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    Still nothing.


    A cold, suffocating panic tightened around his chest. She had been here just moments ago.


    His eyes snapped toward the road where the truck had disappeared, and a terrible realization struck him.


    Was she inside it?


    “Go! Catch that truck!” The shout tore out of him — raw, edged with equal parts fury and fear.


    Regret mmed into him. If he hadn’t forced her to stay behind, if he hadn’t been so convinced he could handle everything alone, she would still be standing here. His fists tightened until his knuckles turned pale, his voice dropping into a rough, desperatemand.


    “No matter what it takes — stop that truck.”


    The long, deste stretch of Route 103y ahead.


    The pitch-ck heavy-duty truck thundered across the broken roadway, its massive frame bucking violently as it tore over deep potholes. The engine howled without restraint, its roar spilling across the empty fields. Thick ck smoke poured from the exhaust, curling into the night air and leaving behind a suffocating trail of danger.


    Inside the cab, the covert operative behind the wheel kept his foot pressed hard against the elerator. The speedometer needle quivered at the edge of the redline. Cold sweat slicked his forehead, and his eyes flicked repeatedly toward the rearview mirror, unable to stay away.


    In its narrow reflection, blinding headlights clung stubbornly to the truck’s rear bumper — hovering there like death itself, refusing to let go.


    Those heavily modified SUVs pursued them relentlessly. He changednes, forced more speed, pushed the engine harder — yet nothing worked. Instead of falling back, the pursuers crept closer, closing the distance with terrifying certainty.


    “Damn it!” His hand mmed against the steering wheel, the sharp impact betraying the fear tightening his voice. “Who the hell are these people? They’re like ghosts. No matter what I do, I can’t lose them!”


    From the moment they left the abandoned auto repair shop, those vehicles had appeared without warning, as if summoned from nowhere — their driving precise, their intent unmistakable. Again and again they surged forward, trying to block the truck and force it to stop.


    In the passenger seat, his partner leaned out the window with binocrs raised, studying the vehicles behind them. After a tense moment, he pulled himself back inside, his face drawn tight.


    “Got a clear look,” he said, his voice low and strained. “The marking on it — I remember now. It’s the same team from South Lake Park. The ones who took out number three and number five that night.”


    “What?” The driver’s pupils constricted, a sh of murderous intent igniting behind his eyes. “The Mask? Those filthy bastards — they really want to die.”


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