The rain in Busan had turned into a fine mist, clinging to Lin's jacket as he shoved the final crate into the back of the stolen Hyundai truck. Every sound—the clatter of metal, the crunch of his boots on wet gravel—felt too loud, too sharp. The docks were quieter now, emptied of most night workers, but Lin knew that didn't mean they were safe. In this city, silence could be just as dangerous as noise.

Min-joon slammed the tailgate shut, glancing over his shoulder at the fog creeping in from the sea. "We need to move. Now." His voice was tight, his eyes constantly flicking to the shadows between the stacked shipping containers.

Keller stood near the cab, scanning the narrow lane between two warehouse walls. "Still no tail," he said, but his hand rested near the grip of his pistol. "Doesn't mean much. They could be waiting for us to make a move."

Lin didn't reply. He pulled the tarp over the crates and tightened the ropes, his mind replaying Sang-ho's last words before they'd split: Don't trust the roads. They've got eyes everywhere.

When they finally climbed into the truck, the cabin smelled faintly of oil and damp leather. The windshield was dotted with raindrops, streetlights bending in the glass like smeared halos. Lin took the wheel—he trusted no one else with the drive out of Busan. Min-joon sat beside him, a map unfolded on his lap, and Keller squeezed into the cramped space behind them with his rifle between his knees.

The engine coughed once before roaring to life. Lin kept the headlights dim, guiding the truck through the narrow back lanes that ran parallel to the waterfront. He avoided the main highway, taking side roads littered with puddles and neon reflections from shuttered karaoke bars.

Min-joon broke the silence first. "If Sang-ho's right, they've got checkpoints at every exit. We'll have to cut inland before we hit Gyeongbu Expressway."

"Then we go through the industrial zone," Lin said without hesitation. "It's slower, but less eyes. If they've got watchers, they won't waste them there."

Keller let out a short, humorless laugh. "Yeah, but they'll have other things in the industrial zone. Things with bigger guns."

Lin didn't look back. "Then we drive faster."

For twenty minutes, the only sounds were the hum of the engine, the occasional splash of water under the tires, and the low thrum of Lin's thoughts. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles pale against the worn leather.

A vibration rattled against the dashboard—Min-joon's phone. He glanced at the screen and frowned. "It's Hye-jin."

Lin's brow furrowed. "Put it on speaker."

The line clicked, and a rush of static came before her voice. "Where are you?" she asked quickly, the background noise on her end a mix of voices and a distant train horn.

"Leaving Busan," Min-joon said. "We've got the shipment."

"You've got trouble. I've heard chatter—two groups are moving to intercept you before you hit the city limits. One's Jin's people. The other…" She hesitated, and Lin caught the hesitation like a hook. "…might be government."

Keller cursed softly. "Fantastic. So we're stuck between crooks and cops."

"Not cops," Hye-jin corrected sharply. "Agency. The kind that doesn't bother with trials."

Lin's jaw tightened. "We've got three crates they want. Which means we can't afford to lose even one."

"You can't afford to get caught at all," she shot back. "If you head straight north, they'll close the gap. You need to think sideways."

"What's sideways?" Min-joon asked.

"You'll know when you see it," she said, then hung up without another word.

They drove on, the mist thickening into a curtain that blurred the streetlights. The industrial zone rose ahead—a skeletal landscape of rusted cranes, silent factories, and chain-link fences topped with curling barbed wire.

Lin slowed as they passed a row of abandoned shipping offices. He could feel the weight of the crates in the back, not just physically but in every decision he made. Each box was leverage, a weapon, and a death sentence all in one.

Min-joon pointed to a narrow turnoff. "This leads to an old service road. It'll take us to the bypass without hitting the expressway."

Lin turned the wheel, guiding them down the cracked asphalt. The road was barely wide enough for the truck, and the overhanging branches scraped against the roof like claws.

Keller kept his rifle ready, eyes darting between the side mirrors and the shadows beyond the glass. "I don't like this," he muttered. "Too quiet."

They weren't quiet for long.

A low rumble began behind them—distant at first, then growing until it became the distinct growl of engines. Two black SUVs emerged from the mist, headlights off, moving fast.

"They're on us," Keller said, raising his weapon.

Lin's foot slammed down on the accelerator, the truck lurching forward. The narrow road became a blur of wet branches and dark curves. The SUVs gained quickly, their tires hissing on the damp asphalt.

A flash of light erupted from the first SUV's hood—a muzzle flare. Bullets struck the road behind them, sending up sparks.

"Hold on!" Lin shouted, jerking the wheel into a sharp turn. The truck fishtailed, barely keeping traction, but the move forced the SUVs to slow and adjust their angle.

Min-joon grabbed the dashboard to steady himself. "Left ahead!"

Lin swung the wheel just as the second SUV tried to pull alongside. The truck clipped the SUV's fender, forcing it into a ditch, but the first vehicle stayed close, relentless.

They tore through the last stretch of service road, bursting out onto a wider junction where the mist thinned enough to see the sign overhead. One arrow pointed toward the bypass, the other toward a winding coastal road.

Lin eased off the gas for just a heartbeat, eyes flicking between the two paths.

The bypass meant speed—but also the risk of checkpoints. The coastal road meant distance and cover, but it would take them closer to territory Lin had sworn never to step into again.

Keller's voice was sharp behind him. "Pick one, Lin! We don't have time to debate."

Lin's hands tightened on the wheel. The rain, the crates, the chase—all of it pressed down on him, demanding a choice.

And in that moment, he realized this wasn't just about getting out of Busan. It was about where he was willing to go—and who he was willing to face—to finish this.

The truck idled at the fork, the SUVs closing in.

Lin made his decision.