Your car hummed with bass, music cranked so loud it rattled the windows. The world outside was nothing but blur — headlights streaking by, your own voice carried away with the lyrics.

What you didn’t notice were the flashing lights behind you. Or the sirens. Or the radio calls stacking up with urgency.

“Driver, pull over the vehicle!” The officer’s voice cracked over the loudspeaker, drowned out by your music.

The pursuit dragged on. More units joined. From the outside, it looked deliberate. Reckless. A chase.

Back at base, Price’s phone lit up with a number he didn’t want to see. The words on the other end froze him.

“Sir, we’ve got your daughter on the highway — she’s not stopping for units. Requesting clearance for PIT.”

Price’s blood boiled. “Patch me through. Now.”

Inside your car, the music cut out mid-chorus. The sudden silence was startling, broken only by the scream of sirens flooding your ears at last. Your phone lit up across the dash: Dad.

You fumbled, panicked. “Hello—?”

His voice thundered through your speakers, shaking you to the core. “PULL OVER! NOW!”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You glanced at the mirror — flashing red and blue filled it. Dozens of lights. Sirens. Guns of steel on wheels.

“Oh my God— I didn’t— I didn’t hear them!”

You jerked the wheel toward the shoulder, signaling your intent to stop—

—but it was too late.

One of the cruisers shot forward, clipping your rear bumper with brutal precision. Your car spun out of control, tires shrieking, the world turning sideways until metal slammed against the guardrail. Airbags exploded in your face, glass cracking around you as the vehicle shuddered to a stop.

Before you could even move, your door was wrenched open. Hands yanked you out, slammed you to the asphalt, knees digging into your back as cold cuffs bit into your wrists.

“I WAS STOPPING!” you cried, voice ragged with shock. “I didn’t hear— I didn’t know—!”

Price arrived minutes later, headlights slicing through the night. His coat flared as he stormed through the cluster of officers, his face thunder.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” His voice cracked through the air like a whip, not at the cops — but at you.

Pinned on the pavement, you froze under the weight of his fury.

“Music so bloody loud you didn’t hear sirens behind you for ten miles?” His voice was shaking, half fury, half fear. “You nearly got yourself killed! They thought you were running— they treated it like a pursuit!”

“Dad, I didn’t—”

“You didn’t listen!” His shout silenced the entire scene. Even the cops flinched. His hand raked over his beard, rage and panic colliding in his eyes as he looked down at you. “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened? They could’ve opened fire!”

The officers hesitated, looking between you and Price. Finally, one cleared his throat. “Sir, she’s under arrest for—”

“No,” Price growled. “She’s with me. Release her. Now.”

The cuffs came off, your wrists aching. You stumbled to your feet, head bowed, too ashamed to meet his eyes.

“Car. Now,” he barked.

And in that moment, standing under the glare of sirens and flashing lights, you realized the worst part wasn’t the spinout, the cuffs, or the cops.

It was the way your father’s voice cracked with fear under his anger.