A black sedan rounded the corner, its headlights cutting through the fog like twin blades. Sasha didn’t run. Running was for people with something to lose. She stepped out into the light, her eyes fixed on the driver.
She didn't wait to see if he got up. Sasha disappeared back into the shadows of the garage, the sound of her boots lost in the roar of the London rain. The drive was gone, but the data was already live on every major news server in the country. The game was over. Sasha Statham was just getting started.
The door opened, and a man stepped out. He didn't look like a villain; he looked like a banker who had never missed a gym day. "The drive, Sasha. Let's not make this a scene."