Chapter 978:

Rylie’s gaze snapped to an elevator a short distance ahead, the sign above it reading “Direct to Mall.” She was just about to floor the accelerator…

Then, suddenly, a towering container truck that had been hidden from view jolted forward without the slightest warning from a blind corner.

The towering front of the massive truck lunged ahead with annihilating force, charging straight toward the Ferrari as though to crush it into scrap. It seemed to appear from thin air, barreling down far beyond any chance of escape.

“Watch out!” In that instant, Brad’s pupils constricted in alarm. Acting on pure instinct, he lunged forward, seized the steering wheel in both hands, and jerked it fiercely to the right.

At the same moment, Rylie slammed her foot on the accelerator—not to flee, but to fight back. The engine roared in defiance as the Ferrari shot forward, twisting into a sharp, reckless arc.

𝖳h𝖾 𝗯𝘦𝗌𝘁 r𝗲v𝗶𝖾𝗐𝗌 о𝗻 𝘨𝗮𝗅𝗇𝗼𝘷е𝘭𝗌.сom

The tires screamed across the pavement, filling the air with the acrid scent of burnt rubber.

In that heartbeat between destruction and survival, the crimson car scraped past the nose of the container truck, spinning into a daring, death-defying drift that carried it clear of the oncoming mass.

The truck, too heavy to stop, roared past in a hurricane gust, then plowed straight into the black SUV that had been tailing them.

A deafening explosion erupted, shaking the night as metal collided with catastrophic force.

The impact’s shockwave sent the Ferrari spinning uncontrollably until it slammed into the roadside guardrail with a jarring crash, finally screeching to a halt.

The airbags exploded open with a sharp hiss, cushioning the impact before drooping uselessly a few seconds later.

Inside the car, an eerie stillness settled in, pierced only by the faint mechanical whine beneath the hood and the distant echo of the truck’s wreckage colliding with a concrete pillar.

Brad, thrown hard against his seat, blinked away the daze and immediately turned toward Rylie. His palms cradled her face, anxiety flickering through his eyes. “Are you hurt?”

Rylie brushed his hands aside and shook her head, trying to steady herself, her breathing ragged. “I’m all right.”

They both twisted around to check the back seat, only to find Lucilla slumped there, her complexion ghostly white, one hand clutching her chest, pupils dilated, her whole frame trembling in uncontrollable spasms.

The phantom image of the onrushing truck seemed to pry open the sealed door of her mind, flooding it with terror long suppressed.

Clutching her head, she let out a scream so raw it froze the air. No longer murmuring in fragments, she cried out in sharp, lucid agony, her voice slicing through the silence. “929! 929! 929!” Tears streamed freely down her cheeks as she curled in on herself, her body wracked by torment that went far deeper than fear, a storm of trauma clawing its way to the surface.

Brad immediately tore off his seatbelt, urgency cutting through the ringing in his ears. “Help her,” he told Rylie, his voice taut with command. “I’ll check on the others outside.”

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