Conceal Itself

Logan's grip on the wheel tightened as he took a sharp turn onto a side street, the tires screeching slightly against the pavement. The sudden movement caught our pursuers off guard, forcing them to adjust their speed.

We weaved through the late-evening traffic, headlights flashing as Logan smoothly switched lanes, always staying one step ahead.

I glanced at the side mirror. The car was still behind us, but it was struggling to keep up.

"Are they gaining?" Logan asked, his voice steady but alert.

"No," I said, eyes locked on the reflection. "But they're not giving up either."

Logan exhaled sharply, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the steering wheel. "Hold on."