The elevator ride down felt like an eternity, the numbers on the display ticking like a countdown to a detonation. In the corner of the basement parking sat her own secret: a Ducati Panigale, matte black and stripped of any identifying markers. She threw on her leather jacket, the weight of the pistol in the small of her back a grim comfort. She kicked the engine over. The roar was a predatory snarl that echoed off the concrete walls.
EDSA was a nightmare of red taillights and humid haze, but Joie rode like a woman with a death wish. She leaned the bike into impossible angles, cutting between buses and weaving through the narrow gaps of the "lane-split" with a precision she had learned in the hills of Thailand.
Her HUD glass flickered inside her helmet. Timothy had bypassed the lockdown to send her a live ping.
PITCH BLACK: They're in a silver sedan. Approaching the Santolan flyover. Matt is three minutes behind them in the Range Rover. Joie—Lolo's personal security team is also mobile. They aren't playing by Stephen's rules anymore.
"I see them," Joie hissed into her comms.
She saw the silver sedan—Pat was driving, his hands probably white on the wheel, Alliana in the passenger seat. They were terrified, driving toward a justice that didn't exist for the Tenorios.
Behind them, a black Range Rover roared, its tinted windows hiding the face of the brother who had once joked with them over ramen. Matthew wasn't joking now. He was a professional, and he was closing the gap.
Joie opened the throttle. The world blurred into streaks of neon and gray. She pulled up alongside the Range Rover, the wind screaming past her. She looked through the glass. Matthew saw her. He didn't slow down. He gave her a single, sharp shake of his head—a warning. Don't do this, munchkin.
Joie didn't flinch. She braked hard, dropping behind the Rover, then accelerated, swerving to the left side of Pat's sedan.
"Pat! Pull over!" she screamed, though she knew they couldn't hear her over the wind.
She reached out one hand, steering with the other, and pounded on the passenger window. Alliana looked over, her face a mask of pure horror. She saw Joie—the girl she had loved, now a black-clad reaper on a screaming machine.
Suddenly, a second black SUV—Lolo's men—rammed the back of Pat's car. The sedan fishtailed, tires shrieking.
"No!" Joie roared.
She didn't think. She used the Ducati as a shield. She braked and swung the tail of the bike, forcing the SUV to swerve to avoid crushing her. The maneuver gave Pat enough room to regain control, but it put Joie directly in the line of fire.
A window rolled down on the SUV. A suppressed barrel emerged.
Phut. Phut.
The bullets grazed the Ducati's tank, sparks showering Joie's legs.
They reached the top of the flyover. Joie surged ahead, cutting off Pat's sedan, forcing him to slam on the brakes. The sedan spun and came to a halt, boxed in by Joie's bike in front and Matthew's Rover behind. Lolo's SUV pulled up alongside.
Joie jumped off the bike before it had even stopped moving, the kickstand clicking into place in one fluid motion. She drew her weapon, but she didn't point it at Pat or Alliana.
She pointed it at the SUV filled with her grandfather's men.
"Stand down!" Joie yelled, her voice carrying the cold authority of the Iron Sister.
Matthew stepped out of his Rover, his own gun drawn, but he was looking at Joie with a pained expression. "Joie, get out of the way. Lolo is dying. The protocols are automatic. If they talk, the whole empire falls."
"Then let it fall!" Joie screamed back.
Pat and Alliana scrambled out of the sedan. Pat was trembling, shielding Alliana behind him. Alliana looked at the three-way standoff—the brothers, the hitmen, and the woman she had spent the night with.
"Matthew," Joie said, her voice dropping to that terrifyingly calm level. "You told me once that we protect what's ours. These two? They're mine. If you want to get to them, you have to go through the doctor first. And you know I know exactly where your vitals are."
Matthew looked at Joie, then at the SUV of hitmen who were waiting for his signal. The tension was a living thing, a wire stretched to the breaking point.
"Stephen is at the hospital," Matthew said slowly, lowering his gun an inch. "He's officially taking over. He just sent the 'Stand Down' code to my phone. But Lolo's personal guards... they don't answer to Stephen."
The lead hitman in the SUV leveled his rifle at Alliana.
Joie didn't wait for the logic. She didn't wait for the anatomy. She fired.