Chapter 16 - The Face in the Rearview Mirror
I threw the truck into gear and tore out of the alleyway, tires screaming against the wet asphalt as I headed toward the old industrial docklands where the *Project_Leviathan* schematics indicated the primary access shaft was located. The rain was coming down in sheets now, blurring the streetlights into long, bleeding streaks of amber and crimson that made it nearly impossible to keep track of the winding waterfront roads. As I checked my rearview mirror to merge onto the harbor bypass, a pair of high-beam headlights suddenly snapped on directly behind me, blinding me with a harsh, glaring white light that pierced straight through the tinting. A black, unmarked Lincoln Navigator—the exact same model driven by Gerald Cole’s corporate security detail—was tailgating my bumper so closely I couldn't even see its front license plate. I slammed down on the accelerator, the old truck surging forward with a desperate roar as we plunged deeper into the industrial labyrinth of rusting shipping containers and towering gantry cranes. The Navigator didn't drop back; instead, it accelerated aggressively, its heavy steel grille slamming into my tailgate with a sickening crunch that sent my truck fishtailing across the slick, oil-stained pavement. I fought the steering wheel with everything I had, wrestling the heavy vehicle away from a concrete barrier as the SUV tried to pit-maneuver me into a stack of empty steel drums. My breath came in ragged, burning gasps, the memory of Vivian’s boot flashing through my mind like a warning siren—*they won't stop until you're at the bottom of the harbor.*
