The hover-bikes made loud noises across the desert like angry hornets on steroids.
The engine made Seraph's body vibrate. The speedometer read three hundred miles per hour.
Ahead, the Silver Streak moved through the dessert like it owned the place.
They were about to make it very angry.
"Thirty seconds to contact!" Rook's voice came through her earpiece, barely audible over the wind. Back in the city, his people were setting things on fire. Expensive things. The kind of chaos that made security forces panic and forget about train routes.
Seraph looked to the side. Draven was hunched over his bike like a bear on a bicycle. The bike looked silly under his huge size, but he kept up anyway.
This was a terrible idea.
But they were doing it anyway.
Torres and Kira were behind them, followed by six others whose names Seraph kept forgetting under pressure. That's nine bikes in total. Nine people about to do something stupid.
