Chapter 172: Evading Pursuit

The relentless wailing of police sirens echoed behind them, and the flashing red-and-blue lights cast an oppressive glow over the dark highway.

Inside one of the patrol cars, the officer in the passenger seat grabbed the radio. "This is Interceptor One. Checkpoint 15, be advised—target vehicles will reach your position in approximately two minutes. Set up accordingly. Over."

"Checkpoint 15, copy that. We're ready. Over."

…

Up ahead, Owen's Camaro led the charge, followed closely by Dom's Dodge Challenger and John Wick's Ford Mustang.

The three cars tore through the road, while two police interceptors followed at a calculated distance, maintaining pursuit without getting too close.

Owen knew exactly what was happening—the cops weren't trying to force them to stop. Their goal was to herd them straight into the roadblock ahead.

A sharp turn loomed ahead. The reduced visibility at the curve was a textbook ambush spot. If Owen's instincts were right, the cops had set up their blockade just beyond the turn, knowing that racers often had little time to react once they rounded a blind corner.

And during a drift, control was at its weakest—making sudden maneuvers nearly impossible.

Just before entering the turn, Owen noticed a stretch of road without a guardrail. Without hesitation, he yanked the wheel hard to the side.

The Camaro shot off the road and into the darkness.

It was a gamble.

He was betting that the drop-off beyond the pavement wasn't too steep. If he was wrong—this would end in a fiery wreck.

"AHHHHHH!"

Monica screamed as the car went airborne.

Then—BAM!

The Camaro slammed down hard, bouncing roughly but staying intact as it continued forward.

"Ugh…"

The impact had jarred Monica so badly that she accidentally swallowed her gum, leaving her looking utterly miserable.

Owen had guessed right. The drop was less than a meter. The car had taken a hit, but nothing catastrophic.

Behind him, Dom's Challenger and John Wick's Mustang followed suit, flying off the road and landing behind him.

Owen wasn't sure if they had spotted the trap ahead or if they just trusted his judgment, but either way, all three of them had successfully broken free from the police's intended route.

VROOOOM!

The police interceptors weren't far behind.

Inside one of them, an officer angrily shouted into his radio, "Target vehicles have broken containment! Repeat—targets have broken containment! We are in pursuit. Requesting immediate backup!"

Owen had no idea that backup had already been called in. He only knew that he needed to get as far away as possible.

If they caught him, he could probably talk his way out of it—claim it was a CTU or FBI undercover operation. Those agencies wouldn't just let him rot in jail.

But that would be a hassle.

With no time to waste, he oriented himself and gunned the Camaro forward, tearing through the rough terrain.

The undercarriage scraped violently against rocks and debris, but he didn't care.

After all, it wasn't his car.

He pushed ahead, relying on his memory of the area, and soon enough, they rejoined the highway.

For a brief moment, they drove against traffic before merging onto a proper road.

But the cops were still there—right on their tail.

These interceptors weren't slow, and their drivers weren't amateurs. They had managed to stay locked onto Owen despite his evasive maneuvers.

At the next intersection, Owen made a split-second decision.

Three roads. Three cars.

Owen shot down the middle.

Dom veered left.

John Wick took the right.

Three directions—two police cars.

Now, it all came down to luck.

But luck wasn't on Owen's side.

The police ignored John Wick's Mustang entirely—whether by choice or by recognizing the infamous assassin's car, it wasn't clear.

Instead, they split up and went after Owen and Dom.

"Shit," Owen muttered under his breath.

He had ways to take out the cops chasing him.

But he wasn't about to attack police officers.

That complicated things.

They were too close, and if he didn't lose them quickly, backup would soon arrive—turning this into an even bigger headache.

He wasn't sure exactly where he was now. He had lost track of his bearings in the chaos.

But judging from the increasing number of storefronts and parked cars along the streets, he was getting closer to the city center.

The police sirens behind him hadn't faded in the slightest.

Owen had a feeling they were deliberately keeping their distance—not losing him, but not closing in either.

That was bad.

They were waiting for reinforcements.

Thinking fast, he steered into a narrow alleyway.

The confined streets and tight corners would give him an edge.

But time was against him.

If too many units arrived, or worse—if a police helicopter was deployed—it would be game over.

Owen knew dodging into the side streets was the right move, but there was still a risk.

He had no idea where these alleys led.

If he ended up in a dead end…

He flew through the narrow streets, twisting and turning at every opportunity, but the damn police interceptor was still glued to his tail.

Monica had gone completely silent—clearly realizing how dangerous their situation was.

Owen banked hard left, then right, then left again, pushing the Camaro to its limit.

Finally, after another sharp turn, he saw his chance.

Slamming the wheel, he spun the Camaro into a 720-degree drift, slamming the brakes as he came to a perfect stop between two parked cars.

"Down!"

Owen shoved Monica low into her seat and killed the headlights.

The alley was plunged into darkness.

Mere seconds later—

Whoosh!

The police interceptor screamed past them, completely missing the hidden Camaro.

The officer inside was too focused on the chase to consider that Owen might have pulled over and blended in with the parked cars.

Only after the sirens faded into the distance did Owen and Monica lift their heads.

Owen glanced at where the cop had disappeared—

And suddenly—

SMOOCH!

Monica kissed him, eyes sparkling like stars.

Owen wanted to return the favor—intensely—but now wasn't the time.

Keeping the car dark, he carefully pulled out from the parking spot and crept toward the exit of the alley.

Just as he reached the street—

SCREECH!

A police cruiser cut him off, blocking the road completely.

"LAPD! Step out of the vehicle!"

Flashlights beamed into the Camaro.

Owen sighed, flashing Monica a bitter smile.

So close.

The officers outside had already drawn their guns, aiming directly at the car.

Owen squinted past the bright light—

And recognized the cop in front of him.

Carl.

"Owen?!"

Under the flashlight's beam, Carl's expression shifted from shock to something… knowing.

His eyes darted to Monica in the passenger seat, and he smirked—the universal look of "I see what you were up to."

The police radio crackled.

"Unit Two reporting: No sign of the Camaro in the vicinity."

"Unit One here—negative as well."

Carl paused, then slowly lifted his radio.

"Unit Four reporting—Camaro spotted northwest. Requesting immediate backup. Repeat, northwest direction."

Seconds later, multiple patrol units confirmed and sped toward the false location.

Carl turned back to Owen.

With a subtle nod, he pointed toward southeast.

"Take that road," he said. "No checkpoints set up there yet."

Owen clasped his hand in a firm shake. "I owe you one, man."

Carl grinned. "Good luck."

Then, he revved his own cruiser and took off in the opposite direction—making sure no one came looking.

Owen exhaled sharply, then gunned the Camaro toward Highway 13.

[Check out my Patreon for +200 additional chapters in all my fanfics! Only $5 per novel or $15 for all!!] [www.p@treon.com/Mutter]

[+50 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]

[+5 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter]