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Amelia shot him a look, her eyes wide with something akin to surprise—or was it realization? In that fleeting glance, there was a silent exchange, a collision of intent and concern that spoke louder than the din around them.
Finn eased off the accelerator momentarily, his chest tight, not from the chase but from the weight of responsibility bearing down on him. In the rear view mirror, he saw Sandler's car gaining distance, slipping further away as they rounded the end of the bridge.
"Focus," Amelia snapped, her gaze returning to the road. "We can't let him get away because we're lying in a ditch."
"Right," Finn muttered, the engine's growl mirroring the frustration coiling within him. He pushed the car forward, chasing the gap that had grown between predator and prey. His mind raced, teeming with scenarios, each one ending with Max Vilne's capture—and the safety of those Finn vowed to shield from harm.
The industrial estate loomed like a sullen behemoth, its silhouette etched against the waning daylight. Finn's grip on the steering wheel was vice-like as he navigated the labyrinth of decaying structures and derelict machinery. The killer's car, a shadowy figure cutting through the desolation, bobbed in and out of view.
"Over there!" Amelia pointed to the left, where a narrow passage promised to swallow Sandler whole.
"Got it!" Finn swerved, tires skidding on slick concrete, the chase hot and unyielding. They barreled into the junkyard, an arena of forgotten metal carcasses stretching toward the sky. Puddles from the day's rain blurred the boundaries between land and water, threatening to pull them into their murky depths.
"Christ," Finn muttered under his breath, maneuvering the car with precision born of old instincts and new urgency. They weaved around heaps of rusted vehicles, each turn an echo of the stakes at play.
"Careful!" Amelia's voice pierced the cacophony of revving engines and crunching gravel.
"Trust me." But even as he said it, doubt gnawed at him. The terrain here was a minefield, the ditches yawning like open graves ready to claim the unwary.
Suddenly, Sandler's car vanished behind a monstrous pile of junk, leaving Finn grasping at fading trails of exhaust. He slammed the brakes, heart thumping a rapid tempo against his ribs—not from exertion, but from the sudden drop in momentum.
"Dammit," he breathed, scanning frantically for any sign of movement.
"Look, Finn," Amelia touched his arm, her voice steady despite the adrenaline that surely coursed through her as well. "I'll head back to the entrance. If he tries to double back, I can call you."
"Are you sure?" Finn's eyes met hers, reflecting a turbulence that matched the churning waters around them.
"It's the best play we have." She unbuckled her seat belt, resolve etching her features. “Otherwise we could be driving around here four hours and not realize he's miles away out of the place.”
"Okay." Finn nodded, reluctantly accepting the division in their partnership. "Be careful, Amelia."
"Always am," she said with a smile, clearly imitating Finn's often used words. With a swift motion, Amelia exited the vehicle, her form swiftly receding into the graveyard of steel and rubber.
Alone now, Finn felt the weight of the hunt settle upon him. This was more than a pursuit; it was a testament to his resolve, to the promise he made himself to never let the darkness win. Restarting the engine, he pulled away, his senses sharpened to the task at hand. The game of cat and mouse had narrowed to a perilous point, and he was all too aware that in this junkyard, every shadow could be a harbinger of danger—or justice delayed.
The metal giants loomed over Finn, their rusted bodies casting long shadows across the labyrinth of scrapped vehicles. He navigated the narrow aisles with a predator's focus, eyes panning for any sign of movement that betrayed Steven Sandler's presence. Water sloshed under the tires, spraying arcs of murky liquid that dappled the car's battered exterior.
"Come on, where are you?" Finn muttered to himself, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. His gaze flickered to the rear view mirror—nothing but an impenetrable maze behind him.
Suddenly, a glint of sunlight off metal caught his attention. There! A vehicle tucked between two mangled buses, its engine purring like a cornered beast ready to bolt. Without hesitation, Finn accelerated toward it.
"Gotcha," he breathed, the thrill of the chase igniting in his veins.
Sandler's car lurched forward, weaving through the debris with reckless abandon. Finn pushed his own vehicle harder, the suspension groaning in protest as they played a deadly game of tag amongst the carcasses of forgotten journeys.
"Running won't save you, Sandler!" Finn shouted into the void, though his words were lost in the roar of engines and the creak of twisted metal.
He gained ground, the killer's rear bumper within reach, when suddenly Sandler's car disappeared further ahead behind a huge stack of crushed cars. Finn's instincts screamed a warning as he followed—he was driving into a trap. Just as he rounded the corner, his fear materialized. Sandler's car sat idle next to a large, steep drop, a large flood covering the ground in icy, muddy water at its foot. The driver's door was open and a figure stood beside it, grinning, gun aimed and ready.
"Police! Drop the weapon!" Finn yelled, knowing full well Sandler wouldn't comply.
Gunshots rang out, bullets pinging against the hood and shattering the windshield. Finn ducked instinctively, heart pounding, as he floored the accelerator. He aimed straight for Sandler, a desperate bid to end this here and now.
"Dammit, don't make me do this," he whispered, bracing for impact.
But then, something unexpected—a blur of motion from the side. Amelia must have doubled back, having seen the car. Undeterred by danger, she launched herself at Sandler, her body colliding with his in a tangle of limbs and fury. All this as Finn's car hurtled towards them both.
"Amelia!" Finn's pulse spiked, hands jerking the wheel to the left to avoid hitting Amelia. The car skidded on wet gravel, sending a spray of stones into the air as he fought for control.
