Amos was lying motionless, his face twisted in pain. Rye dropped to his knees beside him, shaking him roughly.

  “Amos, wake up! Come on, we gotta go!”

  For a few seconds, there was nothing. But then, Amos’s eyelids fluttered open, his gaze blurry. He blinked up at Rye, confusion clouding his eyes.

  “What happened?” Amos’s voice was weak, strained.

  “They threw a shockwave grenade… hit you pretty hard,” Rye said, his voice tight with urgency. “You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

  Amos groaned and sat up slowly, his head spinning.

  “Shit… so they got away.”

  Rye’s smirked, his eyes glinting with determination.

  “Nah, I know where they’re going.”

  Amos blinked at him, still dazed. “How?”

  Rye pulled out his phone, tapping it with one hand.

  “Earlier, when you got hit, I threw a tracker on their truck. They didn’t notice it.” He watched the screen, tracking the truck’s location. “They’re heading toward an old warehouse on the east side. But we need to move, now.”

  Amos’s eyes shot wide open. “When the hell did you even have time for that?”

  Rye opened his mouth, but froze—headlights were closing in fast.

  He could hear the faint wail of sirens in the distance, growing louder with each passing second.

  “Shit! The cops are coming!” Rye shouted.

  “Amos, we gotta go now!”

  Amos, still a bit shaken, pushed himself up with a grunt. He didn’t hesitate. With a swift motion, he grabbed his bike and swung onto it. Rye followed suit, starting the engine and revving it hard. The sound of sirens grew closer, and above them, the whirring of a hovercraft could be heard, its searchlights sweeping over the street, casting a bright glare.

  Behind them, the cops weren’t far behind. The hovercraft's searchlights locked onto them, its lights blinding as they streaked through the streets. But Rye and Amos didn’t look back. They pushed their bikes harder, dodging traffic and obstacles, their escape barely a breath ahead of the law.

  Rye’s pulse kicked up. Game’s not over, he told himself. We’ve got the edge. No way we’re getting caught. Not today.

  The sound of the hovercraft's amplified voice boomed through the night air.

  “Stop immediately! If you do not comply, we will open fire!”

  Amos and Rye didn’t hesitate. In one smooth motion, both pressed a button on their bike’s handles. The machines responded instantly: hoods unfolded from the frames, covering the bikes completely, the sleek panels blending into the surroundings. Within seconds, their bikes were barely visible, disappearing almost entirely from sight.

  The hovercraft’s searchlight swept across the empty street, its beams skimming over the place where the boys had been just moments before. It hovered there for a few beats, searching, but the bikes were gone.

  “Where did they go?” the voice from the hovercraft barked, its tone thick with frustration.

  “Ghost bikes, I thought we scrapped all of them and made it illegal!”

  The hovercraft's searchlights swept through the dark streets one last time, but it was already too late. The boys had vanished into thin air, leaving no trace. Furious at the loss, the voice on the intercom barked,

  “Pull back! They’ve disappeared. Get us a better lead!”

  The hovercraft’s engines hummed loudly as it began to retreat, the sound of its engines fading into the distance.

  Rye and Amos waited, lying low as the hovercraft pulled away. Once the sound of the hovercraft had completely faded, they let out a collective breath. Amos grinned, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

  Rye shook his head. “That was too close. They’ll be looking for us for hours.”

  Amos chuckled. “Good thing Calix gave us his bikes, we're not exactly easy to find now.”

  As the hovercraft disappeared into the night, the boys began to cautiously maneuver their bikes, making sure to stay low. They reappeared slowly, the hoods on their bikes retracting with a soft hiss. They let out a silent breath of relief when they saw no one was following them.

  Without a word, they powered up their bikes and continued their pursuit, tracking the signal from the tracker Rye had placed on the armoured truck earlier. The road began to get narrower as they ventured further out of the city. Soon, they found themselves on a small, winding path, heading straight into the dense forest.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The trees grew thicker, their trunks looming like silent sentinels in the darkness. The air grew cooler, and the faint light from the city barely reached them now. The further they went, the harder it became to navigate.

  Rye glanced at Amos.

  “This is it. The truck’s still heading straight through. If it went this way, it’s probably parked somewhere deeper in the woods.”

  Amos, scanning the thick canopy above them, nodded.

  “Yeah, but I don’t like this. It’s too dark. Hard to see anything.”

  Rye squinted through the gloom.

  “If we didn’t have the tracker, we’d probably be lost already.”

  Amos smirked, but the edge of concern was still there.

  “Lucky for us, we’ve got it.”

  Rye revved his engine one last time before pulling off the narrow path and parking the bike behind a thick bush, hiding it as best as they could. They dismounted quietly, crouching low as they hid their bikes well enough to blend in with the overgrown foliage. The air was damp and cool as they stepped into the underbrush, moving cautiously through the forest. The thick trees above blocked most of the moonlight, leaving them with only the dim glow from Rye’s tracker to guide their way.

  The forest pulsed with faint rustles and distant, unseen movement. Too quiet. Like the trees were holding their breath.

  Rye and Amos walked in silence for a while, the tension growing with every step. They knew they were close, but with each step deeper into the woods, they couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched.

  Rye pulled up the tracker on his wrist, eyes flicking back and forth.

  “The signal’s still strong. We’re close,” he muttered.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’d feel a lot better if we were on solid ground, not walking through a damn maze.”

  Amos nodded, his instincts on high alert.

  “It’s just a matter of finding the right spot. The truck has to be nearby.”

  The two of them pressed on, the darkness around them swallowing them whole as they ventured deeper into the forest, knowing that whatever was ahead, they weren’t turning back.

  After what felt like an eternity navigating the dense forest, Rye and Amos finally reached the location from the tracker. They crouched low on a hill just above an old, crumbling building, its silhouette barely visible in the dim light of the night.

  The building was larger than Rye had expected. It was surrounded by thick trees, but the lights from inside flickered through broken windows, casting long shadows on the ground. From this vantage point, they could see several parked vehicles—more than just the armoured truck—and the faint movement of figures through the windows. The place was buzzing with activity.

  Rye narrowed his eyes.

  “This isn’t just a hideout. It’s their base. There are more people here than I thought.”

  He pulled back from the edge, turning to find Amos lying on the ground beside a tree, his face still pale from the shock-wave grenade blast. Despite the pain from his crash, Amos was alert, his eyes scanning the surroundings as best as he could.

  Rye crouched beside him, lowering his voice.

  “It’s bigger than we thought. Way More guys this might be way too much for us, looks like their operation center, not just a drop-off point.”

  Amos grimaced, his side still sore, but his mind still sharp and focused. He thought for a moment, then reached for his phone.

  “I’ll have to call Calix . He should be here in about an hour. If I tell him the situation, he's gonna be mad but he will help us out. In the meantime, we'll have to wait.”

  Rye nodded, but his nerves were starting to get to him. He glanced at the building again. The flickering lights, the heavy movement inside—it felt like a death trap.

  “Hey, Amos… are we really breaking in there? Looks like a lot of people inside.”

  Amos looked up at him. Despite the pain, his voice held quiet certainty.

  “We are. Stop worrying. I already told Calix what’s going on—he’s bringing backup. But we’re not walking away empty-handed. We’re taking what we came for.”

  Rye frowned, uneasy.

  “You think we can make it in without being seen?”

  Amos gave him a half-smile, as much as his injury would allow.

  “Of course we can, We’re going to sneak in, grab everything we can, and get out. No one will even know we were here. Trust me.”

  Rye bit his lip, still unsure.

  “And what if things go south? What if they’ve got more firepower than we expect?”

  Amos’s smile didn’t fade, but there was a hardened edge to his tone.

  “Then we deal with it. We can’t just walk away now. We didn’t come all this way for nothing.”

  There was a beat of silence between them as the distant sounds of the night filled the air. The forest was quiet, but the tension hung heavy around them.

  Rye nodded slowly.

  “We stick to the plan, and don't get noticed.”

  Amos lifted a thumb without turning his head, eyes fixed on the flickering windows below.

  The wind rustled through the trees as the two of them lay low, waiting in silence, but the weight of their goal lingered in the air. The seconds seemed to stretch as the sound of distant footsteps and muffled voices from the building grew louder, but neither of them moved.

  They knew that soon, they’d be facing whatever was inside that building. But for now, all they could do was wait.

  Rye is busy keeping a lookout for the people down below, all equipped with heavy firearms and heavy gear. The rest of the group party and celebrate their successful heist in the building. Rye tries not to make any suspicious movements to avoid being seen; the more he observes them, the more he begins to doubt whether they can even get past all the guards.

  The sky began to become darker, covering the forest in pitch black. Rye and Amos could barely see each other as they waited in the cold for Calix to arrive with the gear.

  Rye crouched low behind the brush, eyes locked on the glowing ruin below. Inside, the crew laughed and shouted, a rowdy celebration of their heist echoing through shattered windows. The sound clashed harshly with the quiet resolve of Rye and Amos.

  The more Rye observed them, the more his doubts crept in. Every time a new figure moved through the building, his mind raced, calculating the number of guards, the positions of the exits, the chances of slipping through undetected. How the hell are we going to get past all of them?

  He shifted his position slightly, careful not to make any noise or draw attention to himself. Every tiny movement felt like it could give him away. His muscles were stiff from the cold air gnawed at him, but he couldn’t afford to take his eyes off the scene below.