Rowan’s POV

The deafening roar of the cargo ship’s engines filled the air as I slammed the brakes, skidding to a halt just inches from the edge of the massive vessel. Bret was busy trying to hack into the ship's systems, muttering something about controlling the cranes while Sia, wide-eyed, clutched the seat in fear. But we didn’t have time to breathe.

Suddenly, a barrage of gunfire ripped through the silence. Bullets pinged off the Lamborghini’s roof. I ducked instinctively.

"Why are they shooting at us?" Bret asked, his voice rising with panic.

I looked around, spotting men in black suits with AK-47s, barking orders in Russian. "It’s the Russian...