The sports coupe tore through the winding roads of the Upper District, its tires screaming against the asphalt as Holino Ford pushed the engine to its limit. In his left hand, the glass bottle of prenatal regulators clinked rhythmically against the steering wheel. His mind was a chaotic blur of amusement, and calculations. Malcolm. The straight, legendary King of Deviloy. Pregnant. The absurdity of the image made a wicked grin plaster across Holino's face. He couldn't wait to see the look on his brother's stiff, disciplined face when he dropped a box of baby diapers on his desk.
Suddenly, a car lurched out from a concealed side intersection, its high-beams flashing blindingly through the damp evening air.
With a deafening screech of burning rubber, the vehicle swerved violently, intentionally positioning its steel frame sideways across the narrow, two-lane road. It effectively blocked the entire perimeter, completely cutting off the path.
