Race With The Devil Yify -

The tires screamed as the car skidded sideways, narrowly missing the rusted iron supports. Frank swung the wheel back, the momentum nearly flipping them over. Behind them, the pursuit intensified, the gap between the bumper and the abyss narrowing with every heartbeat. The horizon was gone now, replaced by an absolute, suffocating blackness that seemed to swallow the road ahead.

A heavy thud rocked the rear bumper. One of the sedans had pulled alongside, its grill gritting against their quarter panel. A man leaned out of the passenger window, his face a mask of calm, calculated fury. He wasn’t holding a gun; he was holding a heavy, hooked chain. "Take the shot!" Frank yelled. Race with the Devil YIFY

Roger leaned out, the wind whipping his hair into a frenzy. The shotgun blast shattered the sedan’s windshield, but the car didn't veer. It surged forward, slamming into them again, forcing the vehicle toward the crumbling edge of the shoulder. "They aren't stopping, Frank! They don't care if they die!" The tires screamed as the car skidded sideways,

Frank saw the bridge ahead—a narrow, rusted span over a dry creek bed. He saw the silhouettes of more figures standing on the girders, waiting. This wasn't a chase anymore; it was a ritual extraction. The horizon was gone now, replaced by an

"They're still there," Roger rasped, glancing at the side mirror.