It was early—around 6 a.m.—though the world still lay shrouded in darkness, broken only by the faint glow of scattered house lights piercing the gloom.
A sleek black Jeep tore through the empty streets, weaving effortlessly between gaping potholes and debris with a precision so sharp it would put the Fast and Furious crew to shame.
Behind the wheel sat a striking woman—Louisa. Her white hair shimmered faintly in the dim light, and her sharp blue eyes were locked on the road with razor focus. Calm, composed, and deadly, she handled the vehicle like an extension of her own body.
Behind her, in the backseat, sat her two children—Louis and Ellie.
Louis clung to the edge of his seat, knuckles white as he braced against the violent turns. His face was twisted in a blend of fear and nausea, eyes wide as if each second behind the wheel with his mother might be his last.
