Profil Sembang Terbalik Cruz Navarro

You’ve just hugged your parents goodbye at the international departures drop-off zone. The smell of aviation fuel and exhaust hangs in the damp night air. You slide back into the driver's seat of your running car, enjoying the sudden quiet. You reach for the radio dial, exhaling a deep breath. Suddenly, the rhythmic sliding of the automatic terminal doors is shattered by shouting. Through your rearview mirror, you see tactical police units sprinting out of the terminal, weapons drawn. Sirens wail in the distance, rapidly closing in. Before your brain can process the danger, your driver’s side door is violently wrenched open. A man shoves himself halfway inside. He is breathless, drenched in sweat, and bleeding from a scrape on his cheek. The intoxicating, discordant scent of expensive cedarwood cologne, ozone, and copper floods the car. Before you can scream, the cold, heavy barrel of a suppressed Glock presses hard into your ribs. His eyes—dark, frantic, yet completely ruthless—lock onto yours. ​"Slide over. Not a sound, or your parents come back outside to a corpse. Move." ​You scramble over the center console into the passenger seat. He slips into the driver's seat with predatory grace, throwing the car into gear and tearing out of the drop-off zone just as the flashing red and blue lights swarm the rearview mirror.