"Kaivan… why are you doing this?" she asked softly, her voice cutting through the silence. She turned to him, eyes filled with confusion. "What are you really planning? We never meant to hurt you."
Kaivan remained silent.
Only the engine answered, rumbling like a distant storm.
After several seconds, he spoke. His voice was low, cold as steel.
"Maybe you didn't hurt me directly," he said. "But I can't trust you. There's something more precious than your promises—my friends."
His tone slowly rose, like a current turning into a storm.
"You experimented on them, didn't you? Special serum. Military training. They're not even Tome users like me. So what are you really planning?"
His words shook Elara.
Her face tightened. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
After taking a trembling breath, she tried to speak.
"It's not like that… Kaivan. We never intended—"
Her voice was cut off.
A thunderous sound rolled across the sky.
Helicopter blades tore through the night, followed by a beam of white light piercing the curtain of snow and locking onto the truck.
Kaivan glanced at the rearview mirror, then at the sky.
"They found us," he muttered, calm and firm, as he tightened his grip on the wheel.
The massive helicopter hovered low above them. Its searchlight swept across the ground, marking them like hunted animals. From the loudspeaker, a heavy voice tore through the night like a blade.
"KAIVAN! Stop the vehicle now! I repeat, stop immediately, or we will take action!"
Kaivan recognized that voice—Levan. Not just a scientist, but the shadow behind the facility. The undercover agent who had once dragged them to Georgia, and now returned not to negotiate.
Inside the helicopter, Levan stood at the open doorway. His tactical jacket snapped in the wind, one hand gripping the megaphone, the other clutching the frame. His hawk-like eyes scanned the truck racing below.
"KAIVAN! Get out of the vehicle! We will not punish you!"
Kaivan gritted his teeth and jerked the steering wheel sharply to the right. The truck veered onto a narrow, snow-covered trail filled with roots and rocks. Elara was thrown forward, her seatbelt snapping tight.
"Kaivan, what are you doing?! This road—"
"I know," he cut in quickly. "It's the only way out of their spotlight."
The tires sprayed mud and snow. Branches clawed at the windshield, leaving long silver scars under the headlights. The roar of the rotor followed them, but the pine forest swallowed the helicopter's light.
Levan clenched his jaw. "He doesn't know this terrain."
Inside the cabin, Elara trembled. The violent shaking and engine noise pounded her chest. But what made her dizzy was not the motion—it was the certainty in Kaivan's eyes, no longer the same as before.
The night wind howled from the north, carrying gray mist that danced between black trees. Leaves shivered, whispering like lost spirits. The air froze, every breath breaking into crystals.
The old, dull-green truck roared through the storm. Its wheels bit into ice, carving a winding path nearly buried in snow. Yellow headlights pierced the fog only a few meters ahead, revealing shadows of trunks and dark cliffs. The engine shook the cabin. Elara clutched the dashboard tighter, while Kaivan stared forward—cold, focused, as if he were cutting through not just a forest, but his own fate.
Kaivan sat upright behind the wheel. His thin body was tense, fused with the vehicle. His eyes narrowed, fixed ahead. Cold sweat slid down his temples, mixing with frozen breath. From time to time, he glanced at the mirror, catching the blinking light of the pursuing helicopter.
"Kaivan! Stop! You can't escape!" Levan's voice exploded from the megaphone, echoing off cliffs and pine trees, slicing through the frozen night.
The helicopter's beam pierced the snowstorm and slammed into the windshield. Kaivan raised a hand to shield his eyes. Elara's shadow trembled beside him, her body leaning forward, lips pressed tight, chin shaking. The air inside froze with tension.
Kaivan growled and turned the truck toward the main road. The tires slipped, but he regained control. Snow fell heavier, blinding his view. Each flake struck the glass like shards. The road climbed upward, toward a sharp curve leading to a ravine.
"Kaivan!" Elara cried. "You can't go on like this! We can't avoid them forever!"
Kaivan remained silent. His hands clenched the wheel until his knuckles turned white. Through the fogged glass, the helicopter's silhouette danced in the sky, stirring a spiral of snow. Then Levan's voice echoed again:
"What are you doing, Kaivan?! We never meant to hurt you! You're only making things worse!"
The tone shifted—not merely cynical, but tired, faintly regretful. As if he himself no longer fully believed in his mission.
Kaivan glanced briefly at Elara, then reached for the rifle beside him. He lifted it and aimed it toward the helicopter.
Click.
"Empty…" he muttered. He shook the rifle. No bullets.
"Kaivan! There's a cliff ahead!" Elara screamed, her face pale.
Kaivan lowered the weapon, his eyes sweeping beneath the dashboard. Then he saw it—a worn grenade wrapped in cloth, half-hidden behind a toolbox.
"A grenade…?" he whispered.
His fingers moved swiftly, pulling the pin free. Cold night air rushed in as he opened the window. In one sharp motion, he hurled the grenade toward the pile of rocks at the roadside.
"Hold on!" he shouted.
BOOOOM!
The explosion shook the ground. Rocks, smoke, and snow burst into the air, spilling over the cliff ahead. The truck rattled violently; the windshield cracked. Elara screamed and ducked. Kaivan slammed the accelerator to the floor. The engine roared.
The truck leapt at the edge of the abyss.
Time seemed to stop.
Snow scattered beneath the wheels. The vehicle lifted, floating between fire and mist. In that fleeting instant, only Kaivan's breathing remained—sharp, bitter, and alive.
The truck crashed onto the opposite side with a metallic thunder. The rear tires nearly tore loose, but Kaivan twisted the wheel left with perfect control. The vehicle wobbled wildly—then stabilized.
They had survived. For now.
Kaivan's breath came in ragged bursts, his chest rising and falling like a steam engine. Elara bent forward, trembling. Behind them, the helicopter hovered, forced to stop—the path was too narrow to follow.
Above, Levan stared down, his left cheek twitching.
"Why was there a grenade in that truck?!" he barked over the engine's roar.
The crew exchanged panicked glances.