(Evelina's POV—Ambush Site, Inside the Crashed Car)
Metal screamed.
Glass shattered.
My body lurched forward—but an arm like steel slammed across my torso, stopping me just before my skull kissed the dashboard.
Rowan.
His voice cracked through the chaos, sharp and lethal: "MISS—DON'T MOVE!"
Outside, tires screeched. Engines roared. Dark silhouettes circled the crushed car like wolves smelling blood.
The windows were cracked, spiderwebbed with broken glass. Smoke curled from the hood.
DING!!!!
[System: WARNING. Hostile Units: 12. Target: YOU.]
Of course. Twelve again. This game had no imagination.
My breath sharpened—not fear. Calculation.
"Rowan," I said, cold and steady despite the smoke, "status."
He scanned the surroundings in half a heartbeat.
"Four vehicles. Twelve men. Surrounding us at all angles." His voice dropped lower. "Professionals."
I clicked my tongue. "Why is it always twelve?"
He shifted, muscles coiling beneath his suit. "Miss. We need to move. Now."
