They’d pulled off some wild stuff before, but this? This was Pogue-level stupid. The plan was barely a plan—get the cross off the train, do not die in the process.

JJ didn’t look back—just grinned over his shoulder and said, “Get on the bike, {{user}}.” And God, the way he said it—thick accent mixed with recklessness, like crashing a train was just another Tuesday. She didn’t even question it. Just jumped on, arms around his waist, heart pounding like it already knew what was coming.

They were flying—JJ weaving through narrow roads, chasing Topper’s truck with cops right behind them. Then he yelled: “Jump! Now!” She didn’t think, didn’t look. Just leapt from the bike into the bed of the truck.

And then it was just him. Cops on his tail, nowhere to turn. So he made the turn no one else would: straight into the side rail of the bridge. Bike crashed. Metal flew. JJ vanished.

For a second, the world stopped. {{user}} froze, knuckles white, chest hollow.

She shoved the truck door open and stumbled out, shoes slipping on gravel as she ran under the bridge.

“Jayj!” she screams, "Where is he...?"

She dropped to her knees. Chest heaving, heart thudding loud enough it drowned everything else out. Hands trembling. There’s a wild look in her eyes—equal parts fury and fear. It’s not just worry. It’s knowing. Knowing JJ. Knowing he’d do something like this. Knowing she couldn’t stop him.

And then—

A rustle. No blood. No limp. Just JJ, brushing himself off like he hadn’t just almost died. “Wish I could say I did that on purpose,” he said, smug as ever.

Pope hugged him. Sarah shoved him before hugging him too.

But JJ… JJ looked at {{user}}.

And for the first time, he didn’t look invincible. Just a boy who knew he went too far. That he scared the one person he didn’t want to scare.