Alexei smiled at the windshield, enjoying the playful tone to Sera’s voice.

But she wasn’t wrong... why go with one route when two was that much better?

He had enough cold left for edges and one more hard trick before he needed to start worrying about overdrawing his power.

He felt Psycho inside his chest cocking his head to the side as he looked out at the world from Alexei’s eyes. Maybe next time you’ll practice more. You don’t need to hide things from a chosen family.

His words caused Alexei to freeze for just a second. Was that what he had? A chosen family? Not one chosen by fate, or by someone else, but by him?

If that was the case, then he was going to make sure that no one took that choice away from him again.

And the family revolved around Sera.

He glanced left. The flood licked the base of the levee. The wind would carry steam south if Zubair gave him heat.

He lifted his hand where Zubair could see it in the mirror and circled two fingers once: cover.

Heat rolled. Thin fog rose along the crest. Not blind. Just blurry. The pickups ahead lost sharp lines. Men shifted and tried to guess where to shoot.

The first truck slewed sideways to block the crown. The second angled to create a choke. The tripod swung.

"Left tire, front block," Elias said. "Then driver door."

"On it," Lachlan answered.

He used the cab roof as a rest and drilled the front tire. Rubber shredded in all directions like black snowflakes as the pickup dropped onto the rim and spat sparks.

He put the next round where the driver’s arm hung out. The arm moved no more.

Alexei slid a ribbon of ice under the right side of the crown. He didn’t need a road now; he needed a slip. He polished the dirt to a slick sheen and hid it under dust.

"Right two feet," he told Sera, even. "Pass on the glass."

She adjusted just enough.

Her tires found the slick, and the truck slid clean around the block without losing speed.

Zubair followed and didn’t fight the drift. His back end slid to the side, and he caught it with a breath of heat. Alexei came through last, felt the crown trying to throw him, and let it, as if the levee itself agreed to get out of their way for once.

The tripod with the mounted machine gun spat at them. The round went high and tore a chunk out of empty air.

Alexei lifted his left hand and set a little face of ice in front of the muzzle for the next shot. The second round hit his plate and shaved off.

Sera reached the second block and steered for the narrow line between bumper and ditch like it had always been open.

The men with the zombie poles lunged to snag her grill and got tangled in each other’s feet. Zubair drove straight at the tripod. The gunner’s mouth moved. The heat in front of the glass turned the world into a smeared mirror.

He hesitated a half breath too long, and Lachlan put a round through the mount pin and the heavy dropped.

"Two more on the right bank," Elias warned. "Trying to pace us."

"I see them," Alexei grunted.

He gave the crown one last polish of ice where their tires would bite if they cut in. He didn’t need to see them hit it. He heard the tires squeal and the engines rev as both drivers learned what sideways felt like at speed.

The levee straightened for a long run south. Sera pressed a little more throttle. Zubair matched. Alexei kept them centered and let the fog peel away as the wind took it.

He glanced at his hands. They shook now that the cold had let go. He flexed them, once, twice, then put them back on the wheel.

"Next cut in the levee is big," Elias said. "The map marks it with an X. We either go down and around or we jump the gap."

"Down and around is a kill box," Alexei answered.

"Jump it is," Zubair decided, calm as breakfast.

Sera didn’t argue. She lined up on the center and let the truck run.

The gap came into view—a bite out of the crown with broken culverts sticking like bones. Water moved slow through the cut.

It wasn’t far.

It wasn’t close.

It was just enough.

Alexei measured the span in a glance and the weight of the trucks by feel.

He had one trick left in him, maybe two if he borrowed from tomorrow.

He lifted his hands and drew a tight, thin skin of ice across the gap, not for weight, not to carry a full tire—just to make the air behave like ground for a single heartbeat.

"Straight. No brake. No turn," he told the mic. "Hit it square on."

Sera hit it square on.

The front tires found the thin skin and didn’t fall through before the rear reached it. The truck landed a foot onto the far crown and kept going.

Zubair’s grill filled the mirror and then was past it. His truck thumped and bounced and stayed on the ridge.

Alexei went last, felt the skin crack under him as the tail cleared, and laughed once, short and sharp, because the world had not said no this time.

"Two more trucks coming up fast from behind," Elias warned. "They’re angry now."

"Let them be angry," Sera returned. "We have south to make."

Alexei let the cold drain out of his fingers for real. He gripped the wheel and breathed.

Ahead, the levee ran straight toward a stand of trees and a dark smudge of buildings beyond. The road to Gate Nine.

The wind carried the smell of oil and smoke. Somewhere to the east, a siren tried to wake a city that no longer cared.

Behind them, engines howled and tires clawed at ruts. On the crown, a man with a radio lifted it to his mouth and shouted into the south.

Alexei didn’t look back again.

He watched Sera’s tail lights and Zubair’s mirrors and the next cut in the crown coming at them fast.

He lifted his hand once more, felt for any cold he had left and drew a last thin line where the levee broke, because none of them planned to slow down.