The vans pulled forward behind them, closing the distance, headlight beams widening in the dark. Muzzle lights flashed from the sides of the closest van, bullets flying, thundering.

Sater’s forehead was pressed hard against the window, Diren’s palm braced against the nape of his neck.

In his upper peripheral vision, Sater could see a spark of light; a bullet glancing off of something that the Humvee had just passed underneath, some kind of thick, taut, metal cable, stretched out across the road. It would have been hard to make out if you weren’t looking for it, winding your way through the thick forest in the dead of night.

Sater swallowed painfully. Somewhere in the middle of being kicked he had bit down on his tongue, and it was starting to swell. But that was background noise. More importantly, the pursuing van was about to get a haircut, to put it mildly.

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“Oh, THIT.” Sater said.

The van made contact with the cable right in the middle of the windshield. Icy cracks split the glass, but only for the most infinitesimal fraction of a second, before the entire roof flipped backward and away from the van, as if sheared off with the world’s most efficient can opener. It seemed to hang in the air for a second, caught by wind resistance, before rotating and bouncing off of the asphalt.

Rubber tires screeched, cutting the air, as the second van swerved, avoiding the flying roof, but still managing to hit the cable. The cable cut halfway through the length through the van before it came to a stop.

Sater felt his whole body being shoved against the back of the Humvee as if by an invisible hand as it made a hard brake.

Diren shoved Sater off to the side as he popped open the hatch. All the other car doors opened as well, as the Wolves jumped out.

Seconds later, as the Wolves disappeared into the dark, the gunshots started up again, lighting up the night like fireworks.