?Chapter 881:


    “This guy’s insane,” the driver snapped, leaning on the horn. But it didn’t help.


    A chill ran down Ste’s spine. Something was off—very off.


    Her mind shed back to that strange encounter in the café earlier. “Sir, can you turn at the next intersection, please?” she said quickly.


    The driver nced at her but nodded, sensing the tension in her voice. He tried switchingnes, but the ck car wasn’t letting up. Every time the cab tried to shift, it cut in again, closer and closer—once nearly scraping the side of the taxi as it forced them toward the curb.<fn6fcd> This text is hosted at find·novel</fn6fcd>


    Ste’s face went pale. This wasn’t road rage. It was deliberate.


    Her hand trembled as she reached for her phone. She had to call William. But before she could press the screen, the ck car mmed on its brakes and swerved sharply, forcing the taxi into a dark, narrow side street.


    The driver had no choice—either follow or crash.


    “What the hell is going on?” he asked, looking at her through the mirror, wide-eyed and panicked.


    Ste’s heart pounded in her chest. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice tight.


    The alley they’d been pushed into was barely wide enough for two cars, dimly lit, and eerily silent. Something about it made her stomach turn.


    “Sir,” she said in a low voice, “this doesn’t feel right. Back up. Now.”


    The driver threw the car into reverse and started backing out, but then bright headlights red in the rearview mirror. A ck SUV pulled in behind them, sealing off their exit. At the same time, the sedan ahead stopped, blocking the front.


    Trapped. Exactly what Ste had feared.


    Her blood ran cold. They had clearlye armed and ready—this time, their tactics were even more ruthless. They might not stop at just threats.


    Both the car in front of the taxi and the one behind it stopped. Their doors opened almost in sync. Several men stepped out, all dressed in ck, moving with precision, batons in hand. Silent. Focused.


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    The taxi driver was frozen, his face pale, hands still gripping the wheel.


    Ste bit her bottom lip hard, trying to stay grounded.


    She nced down at her phone—barely one bar of signal. She tried calling William, but the call wouldn’t go through.


    No signal. No help. No way out. She suddenly felt helpless.


    Her breath caught as one of the men raised his baton, ready to smash the window. Then, the sharp screech of tires pierced the alley, cutting through the tension like a de.


    A silver-gray car slid in from nowhere, drifting perfectly between the taxi and the SUV behind.


    Its door swung open. A man stepped out in a loud printed shirt and sunsses, cigarette hanging from his lips as though he hadn’t a care in the world. It was Amon.


    With a crooked grin, he gave a low whistle and strolled a few steps forward, hands in his pockets. “Gentlemen,” he drawled, eyeing the group of men in ck. “What is this? A back-alley ambush? You guys always this dramatic?” The men in ck froze for a beat, clearly caught off guard. They exchanged hard looks, unsure what to make of this unexpected interruption.


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