Chapter 105
Julian's POV
The steel beam caught the light from my phone screen, its twisted edge still embedded in the shredded rubber. I crouched beside the ruined tire, jaw tight.
I pulled the beam free and assessed the damage—there was no fixing this on the roadside.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Ethan. He picked up on the second ring.
"Send a car to my location," I said, keeping my voice level. "Right front tire's blown. I need—"
The roar of an engine cut through the night.
I looked up sharply. Headlights blazed in my rearview mirror, high beams flooding the road with harsh white light. The modified sedan came fast, too fast for this empty stretch, its aggressive rumble echoing around me.
Simultaneously, another set of headlights appeared from the opposite direction. Two vehicles, converging on my position at the exact same moment.
My hand tightened around the steel beam. Every instinct honed over years of military service screamed alert.
Adrenaline surged through my system, my wolf rising just beneath the surface.
The sedan behind me slowed abruptly, engine dropping to an idle purr as it crept closer. The oncoming vehicle flashed its high beams twice and pulled to a stop, as if signaling the first car to pass.
Through the glare, I made out the approaching vehicle: a black Audi with tinted windows. The driver wore a baseball cap pulled low, brim shadowing his face completely. As the opposing headlights swept across the Audi's interior, I caught movement in the back seat—multiple figures shifting in the darkness.
The scent hit me then, carried on the cold wind. Anxiety, aggression, and underneath it all, something darker.
I shifted my grip on the steel beam, muscles coiling as I calculated distances and angles. If they wanted a confrontation, they'd picked the wrong night and the wrong target.
The Audi's engine revved once, then accelerated past me. Within seconds, its taillights disappeared into the night, swallowed by the darkness beyond the curve.
The tension in my shoulders didn't ease. I stayed motionless, watching the empty road where the Audi had vanished, every sense on high alert for any sign it might circle back.
The opposing vehicle's engine changed pitch. Instead of following the Audi, it turned and began creeping toward me, tires crunching on gravel as it pulled onto the shoulder.
I straightened slowly, steel beam still in hand, as the window rolled down.
A young face emerged from the shadows—early twenties, brown hair tousled, wearing a work jacket that had seen better days. His expression was open, concerned, completely unthreatening.
"Hey, man," he called out, leaning through the window. "Car trouble? Need a hand?"
I studied him for several long seconds, cataloging details automatically. No weapons visible, body language relaxed. His Toyota was old but well-maintained.
His gaze dropped to the steel beam in my hand, and a grin tugged at his mouth. "You planning to swap that thing for your tire?"
Despite everything, I felt the corner of my mouth twitch. I gestured at the ruined wheel. "Hit something. Was checking what it was."
"Ouch." He winced, craning his neck to see. "That's totaled. You call for a tow yet?"
"Working on it."
He drummed his fingers on the door frame, then shrugged. "Look, I can help you change it if you want. Used to work at a garage—did this kind of thing all the time. It's not a big deal."
I kept my expression neutral, still weighing whether to accept.
But something about this kid's straightforward manner, the genuine concern in his eyes, made me hesitate.
He seemed to read my skepticism because he pulled his car into a U-turn, parking behind mine with his hazards on. The flashing lights cut through the darkness, illuminating the area around both vehicles.
"Seriously," he said as he climbed out, already moving toward my trunk. "Calling a tow out here will take an hour minimum, and they'll just drag your car to a shop that won't open until tomorrow anyway. I've got the time if you do."
His eyes caught on my car then—really looking at it for the first time. Something shifted in his expression, a flicker of appreciation. "That's a nice ride. Custom work?"
"Some modifications," I said carefully.
"Thought so. You don't see quality like that often." He crouched beside the tire, running an experienced eye over the damage. "Yeah, this definitely needs replacing. You've got a spare in the trunk, right?"
I studied him for another moment, then made a decision. "If you're willing to help, I'll cover all expenses."
He blinked at me, clearly confused. "For what?"
"Your time. The help."
A laugh escaped him, bright and genuine in the cold night air. "Man, it's just changing a tire. Consider it a good deed for the day." He located the spare and the jack, handling both with easy confidence.
I found myself relaxing slightly as he worked, his movements quick and competent. He had the ruined tire off within minutes, whistling tunelessly under his breath as he aligned the spare.
"You should probably learn how to do this yourself," he said conversationally, not looking up from his task. "At least the basics. Roads like this, middle of the night—it's not the safest place to be stuck."
"Noted."
He finished and stood, brushing off his hands. "There you go. But don't push it too hard on that spare—get to a shop first chance you get and have them put on a proper tire."
I reached into my car for my briefcase, pulling out one of my minimal contact cards. The thick cardstock held only my name and an encrypted email address—no title, no agency affiliation. Nothing that would draw unwanted attention.
"If you ever need anything," I said, handing it to him, "you can reach me here."
He took the card, squinting at it in the dim light. "Julian Sterling."
He offered his hand. "Lucas Grey."
I shook his hand firmly.
He pocketed the card. "Anyway, seriously—get that tire replaced soon. And drive safe."
"Will do. Thank you."
He gave a casual wave and headed back to his Toyota. I watched until his taillights disappeared around the bend before sliding back into my car.
I pulled out my phone.
[Cancel the car. Situation resolved. Run a trace on black Audi, license plate XXX-XXXX. Priority.]
Ethan's response came within seconds: [Received.]
Filing it away for later, I started the engine and eased back onto the road, keeping my speed moderate as Lucas had advised.