Wu Haoyu's POV:
The motorcycle's roar was a beast under us, tearing through the night as Yanyan gunned it toward that damn bridge, her dagger pressed against her thigh like a lifeline. My arms locked around her waist, pipe wedged across my back, blood seeping from my bandaged arm, each jolt spiking pain through my side. The sidecar rattled beside us, Yang Wei's stretcher strapped tight, Yue's face pale as she clung to him, Grandpa Huang and Wu Qiang wedged in, their pipe and machete glinting. Chen Wei ran behind, pistol empty but knife out, his leg dragging, the last of our crew after Li Feng's sorry ass bailed. Trucks roared in pursuit, their headlights blinding, Huang Zhao's twisted crest flashing like a death knell. Drones buzzed above, one down from Jian's hack, but the rest circled, their red lights stabbing through the smoke we'd left in the village.
