Her chest tightened, her pulse quickening.
"Driver!" she called out, her voice trembling. "Can you step on the gas? Someone's following us!"
The driver looked in the rearview mirror, noticed the car, and frowned.
Without a word, he pressed down on the accelerator.
The taxi lurched forward, the tires screeching faintly as the car picked up speed.
Chen Mumu gripped the seat in front of her, her knuckles white.
She turned back to look again.
The black car matched their pace, speeding up effortlessly.
The graffiti on its sides caught her eye—a strange, almost ominous design.
The number plate was just one single letter: B.
Her stomach churned.
"Do you recognize that car?" she asked the driver, her voice barely audible.
The driver shook his head, his hands tight on the steering wheel. "No, Miss. But it's bad news, that's for sure."
The air in the car felt heavy.
