Chapter 108
Chapter 108:
Fine—she’d show them how the game was played.
The calm, accommodating woman vanished. In her place emerged Rosara—the fearless racer who once owned every track she touched.
A prickling rush coursed along her spine as her hands gripped the wheel with lethal precision, each motion sharp as a blade’s edge.
The vehicle slashed through the maze of deserted warehouses, her path weaving with fluid, practiced control. Even though Brinley had stepped away from racing years ago, the instincts had never dulled.
She hurled the SUV through two sharp ninety-degree turns, barely easing off the gas. The chassis leaned hard, brushing past crumbling walls as the tires shrieked across the rough surface.
In the rearview mirror, she saw the black sedan misjudge the corner, fishtailing until it nearly slammed into the concrete.
For a moment it lagged behind, but the driver steadied the wheel and surged forward again, closing the gap.
“Relentless, aren’t you?” Brinley muttered through a tight sneer, eyes snapping ahead.
The road ended at a T-junction: left led toward a dead end, right into a narrow lane. At the far end of that path, a heavy iron gate rose from the weeds, its frame nearly swallowed by wild growth.
She remembered spotting it during her survey the other day—the hinges slack, the gate left slightly ajar, concealing the stretch of abandoned warehouses beyond.
Drawing in a steadying breath, Brinley shot toward the junction, slammed the brakes, and yanked the handbrake, the wheel spinning under her grip.
J𝗼𝗶n оu𝘳 со𝗺𝗺𝘂𝗻і𝗍у 𝗈n
Tires screamed across the pavement as the SUV slid in a flawless arc, its body cutting across most of the lane and forcing the black car behind to brake hard.
Using that brief hesitation, she released the handbrake and wrenched the wheel sharply, sending the SUV lunging into the narrow right lane like a released arrow.
By the time the pursuers adjusted, she’d gained nearly a hundred meters.
She barreled through the loosened gate, which groaned on rusted hinges, and the view burst open into a sprawling field of warehouses.
The ground was jagged, littered with rusted beams and corroded steel plates that gleamed dully under the fading light.
She guided the SUV through the chaos with unflinching precision—accelerating hard one moment, tapping the brakes the next. Each evasive swerve threaded her vehicle through danger with a racer’s intuition.
The black sedan burst through the gate seconds later, the engine bellowing with fury, its hunt undeterred.
Determination flickered in Brinley’s eyes, steady and unyielding.
She twisted the wheel again, hurling the SUV toward a ninety-degree corner at the far edge of the warehouse sprawl.
Rows of rusted containers flanked the outer curve, leaving only a sliver of space—barely wide enough for a single vehicle to squeeze through.
The maneuver was dangerous, but it was the only opening she had.
Caught off guard by Brinley’s reckless gamble, the black car hesitated for a split second, swerving toward the broader inner road instead.
Her chance had come.
As the bend loomed, Brinley slammed her foot on the accelerator instead of easing off.