"I can feel it—she's getting weaker!"
James, covered head-to-toe in mud, looked miserable. But he was vicious to the bone; not once did he show fear.
Thanks to his absurdly sharp sense of smell, even with the delay, even after detouring, they had still managed to catch up through sheer stubbornness.
Right as Bella was leaving California and about to enter Arizona, they finally closed in—and Bella noticed them at the same moment.
Through psychic sight, she also spotted something large behind the three vampires.
Bella couldn't help but lean out the window for a closer look. The three vampires were also glancing back as they sprinted.
A massive black semi-truck burst out of the fog behind them.
Six headlights lit the road like daylight.
The cabin was clearly empty—no driver at all—yet the steering wheel and gas pedal moved as if someone invisible were operating them.
Turning. Accelerating.
Without a shred of hesitation, the ghost truck pushed its speed to the limit and charged straight at them—all three vampires and Bella's pickup included—as if it intended to grind them into powder.
What the hell is this? Are American highways really crawling with this many monsters?! How do normal people even survive?!
Bella squinted at it carefully.
She didn't know much about American trucks, but she could at least see the license plate. Every state had its own design—Washington had snow-capped mountains, for example. But this one clearly didn't belong to any nearby state. It looked like a simple right-angled trapezoid.
Bella thought for a moment. Isn't that the shape of Missouri on the map?
A truck from Missouri—no, a ghost truck—crossing three or four states just to come kill people in Arizona. What kind of dedication was that supposed to be?
Bella focused on the emotions inside the truck. It was filled with malice—clearly another one of Death's ridiculous coincidences dragged all the way here.
Bella's psychic power brushed lightly against the ghost truck—then immediately withdrew. She'd discovered something interesting:
At its core, this truck wasn't powered by Death directly—it was driven by a vengeful spirit. A ghost who had died full of hate.
This guy had not been a good person in life. But when he died, he had been beaten to death by three men working together. Then his truck had been pushed into a swamp, and the scene staged as an accident. His resentment never faded. All these years, he'd clung to his truck and wandered Missouri restlessly.
"Hey, Laurent! Stop chasing me already! I apologize, okay?!" Bella shouted behind her.
Her pickup was in front. The vampire trio was in the middle. The ghost truck barreled behind them.
The three vampires still thought Bella and the ghost truck were working together.
They deliberately slowed down, hoping the truck would slam into Bella's pickup—"using one enemy to smash another."
While Bella shouted, all three vampires leapt toward the roadside, praying the ghost truck wouldn't be able to brake and would smash right into Bella instead.
The two vehicles were less than ten meters apart. At the truck's speed, it needed only two or three seconds to hit the pickup—
But an unexpected twist happened.
The ghost truck hesitated the moment it heard Bella speak.
Then, impossibly, the whole truck suddenly swerved hard to the side and sped up even more, charging directly at Laurent, who had jumped aside.
"FUCK! Foda-se a tua mae!—"
A string of curses erupted—English, Portuguese, and a couple of African dialects—he was furious, feeling deeply discriminated against.
But with a murderous truck bearing down on him, he couldn't exactly block it with his head.
So of course he ran.
His two companions hesitated for a second—and Bella's pickup vanished down the road instantly. They could only sigh in frustration and rush to rescue their teammate.
James leapt into the ghost truck's cabin. It was completely empty.
He stomped the brake—no response. He yanked the steering wheel—it didn't move. He tried the door—it was as if welded shut. He couldn't even get out.
The ghost truck kept accelerating, locked onto Laurent.
James felt lost for the first time. What was he supposed to do in this situation?
"Tear it apart! Rip this damn thing apart—hurry!"
Laurent zigzagged wildly, but the truck seemed determined to kill only him and refused to give up.
Fine. Tear it apart.
James smashed everything inside the cabin. Anything he could hit—he hit.
Victoria attacked from the outside—headlights, engine hood, exhaust pipe, tires—nothing was spared.
Laurent burned through his stamina, dodging desperately. His eyes turned blood-red—he was forced to burn his life force to keep going.
"Fuck! Can't you two hurry up?!"
"Hurry!! Hurry!! This thing is going to kill me!"
"I'm begging you—save me! I can't keep this up!"
His constant screaming infuriated both James and Victoria. Part of them wanted to stop helping and let the idiot die. But then he'd start begging again pitifully.
When they reached a bridge, Victoria tore out the entire engine. James wrecked the cabin completely, kicking two huge holes in the door.
At that moment—the bridge collapsed.
All three vampires, caught completely off guard, plunged down together with the ghost truck.
James shoved aside a boulder angrily and crawled out of the rubble. His eyes were cold and murderous as he looked at the ghost truck.
The truck was in miserable shape—crushed, torn, like scrap metal. If not for the vengeful spirit inside, even a junkyard wouldn't want it.
"Chug… chug… chug…"
The ghost truck sputtered black smoke from its exhaust and slowly faded from sight.
"James!"
Victoria's voice came from afar. He turned.
Victoria looked wretched—her once-lovely face was full of cuts from a flying lawnmower blade. Her golden hair looked like a dog had chewed on it.
"Don't look at me—look over there."
She pointed toward the other side of the ruins.
James frowned and followed her gaze.
Laurent was dead.
When the bridge collapsed, he'd managed to dodge the truck—but the moment he landed beneath the bridge, a millstone-sized chunk of concrete fell with perfect, cruel precision, smashing down onto his face.
Half his head was gone. Only part of his jaw was still connected to his neck.
He was unmistakably, absolutely dead.