The acrid smell of burning rubber pierced through the humid night air as Leila Bakhtiari's weathered Peugeot 405 screeched around a corner, tires protesting the worn asphalt of Tehran's back alleys. Her knuckles were white against the steering wheel, eyes darting between the rearview mirror and the labyrinthine path ahead. The distant wail of sirens grew louder, a discordant symphony accompanying the frantic beating of her heart.