Chapter 68 Fury
Ethan was dressed an hour before five; punctuality had long been second nature to him. He had just reached for his keys when it struck him, he had invited Lena to join him. His stomach tightened, an unfamiliar ripple of anticipation moving through him. He was about to call her when movement at the staircase caught his eye.
She came down with an easy, unhurried grace. She wore high-waisted black jeans that hugged her frame, paired with a cropped white top layered under a lightweight olive-green bomber jacket. Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, a pair of slim sunglasses tucked into the neckline of her top as if she'd just stepped out of a street-style magazine.
She looked so cool and perfectly dressed for the occasion. Ethan couldn't help but feel a flicker of pride at his plus one. As she drew closer, Lena suddenly stopped, her eyes flicking down over her outfit, then over to his. They were almost matching, white tops, black trousers, and white sneakers. The only difference was the jacket.
Ethan noticed too.
"You really copied my outfit," he said, his tone flat, laced with that usual nonchalance.
"Uh, no, I didn't," she snapped, brows knitting. "Such an odd coincidence," she muttered, almost irritated. Then she spun on her heel. "I'm going up to change."
"There's no time for that," Ethan said, already moving toward the door without slowing.
Lena walked reluctantly to the door, trying to match Ethan's pace. Despite his cold tone earlier, she couldn't hide the little swell of happiness in her chest she was going to the second season of the Autolux Expo. The first time she'd been there, she had basically snuck in, working as a waitress just to catch glimpses of the cars. She'd stayed at the edges, never daring to go to the front for a proper view, afraid to draw attention to herself. But this time... this time she was going as a guest.
Just as she stepped outside, she spotted Ethan with Hugo, who looked effortlessly sharp in a dark blazer and fitted jeans. The moment Hugo saw her, his brows lifted in mild surprise before a smile broke through.
"Don't tell me it's what I'm thinking," he said to Ethan.
Ethan glanced at Lena, then back at him. "She was bored, so I figured I'd bring her along," he said casually, as though it were nothing more than a small favor.
"I see you've made it a date with your wife, huh," Hugo teased.
"If that's the story you want to run with," Ethan replied, already moving toward the car.
Hugo chuckled and turned his attention fully to Lena. "Lena! You look amazing. See, this is exactly the sort of company Ethan should be keeping makes him look a little less like a statue."
Lena laughed softly. "Thanks dear" Lena replied with a smile
Hugo wasn't a bit disappointed that Ethan had ditched him and taken Lena instead; in fact, he was quietly thrilled to see the two going out together. He stood there with a knowing grin, hands in his pockets, already lining up his teasing.
"I see the love is blossoming," he said to Ethan, eyes flicking deliberately between him and Lena. "The matching outfits are spectacular."
Ethan couldn't help but laugh, finally. "Hugo, it was just a coincidence," he said defensively, though the faint crease between his brows betrayed his annoyance at the remark.
He opened the backseat door for Lena, and she hopped in gracefully, her hair catching the late afternoon light. Ethan looked back at Hugo. "I owe you one. Sorry for the change of plans."
"I'm not even a bit offended," Hugo said with a smile that hinted he was enjoying this far too much.
Ethan tapped him on the shoulder and hopped into the car. Hugo, not ready to let the moment pass, strolled over to Lena's window and bent slightly so she could hear him over the hum of the engine.
"Have a lovely evening, Mrs. Sinclair," he said warmly.
Lena smiled politely. "I will," she replied.
Their car took off, tires crunching against the gravel, leaving Hugo behind with a satisfied smile, the kind of smile that came from knowing he'd just stirred the pot ever so slightly.
Hugo hadn't planned on hanging around. He strode to his car, slid behind the wheel, and pulled out of the driveway. But just as he was about to turn onto the main road, something caught his eye.
A man stood half-hidden behind a massive trash bin, dressed head to toe in black. A cap was tugged low over his face, a hood drawn up over his head, casting his features in shadow. Hugo slowed instinctively.
Their eyes met.
The man stiffened, then turned abruptly, heading the other way at a brisk pace.
Hugo's hand froze on the wheel. Something about the man's deliberate pace screamed trouble. He was about to dismiss it when his rearview mirror caught a quick, telling motion, hands slipping a camera into a worn backpack.
Every instinct Hugo had went on high alert.
He swung the car around hard, tires squealing against the pavement. The man looked up just as Hugo bore down on him. Without hesitation, the stranger bolted, sprinting toward a side street. In one swift motion, he leapt onto a waiting motorbike and gunned the engine.
Hugo floored the accelerator.
The chase ripped through the quiet streets, the engines shattering the calm. High walls loomed on either side, gates flashing past in silver streaks. The bike cut through tight corners with practiced skill, skimming so close to stone pillars Hugo could hear the echo of its tires.
Hugo followed hard, taking turns sharp enough to feel the car's rear sway. Streetlamps flickered overhead, stretching their shadows across the road like bars. The man zigzagged through service lanes and private drive cut-throughs, vanishing for heartbeats at a time before darting back into sight.
Every turn felt like it would be the one he caught him. Every turn, the man slipped away again.
For a moment, Hugo closed the gap, twenty feet, fifteen, he could almost see the outline of the backpack. Then the bike swerved into a narrow lane between two estate walls, far too tight for the car.
Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the black-clad figure vanished, swallowed by the twisting alleys.
Hugo braked hard, jumped out, and took off on foot.
He searched street after street, checking dim corners, peering behind gates, scanning the long, empty stretches of road. Minutes passed. Nothing.
Finally, he stopped, hands on his hips, his breath coming hard.
A sharp, frustrated scoff escaped him. He turned back toward his car, the image of the man and his camera still burned into his mind. Whoever that was, he was no random passerby.
With one last glance at the empty street, Hugo returned to his car, the adrenaline still pulsing in his veins.
As he approached the spot where the man had been standing, something glinted faintly under the headlights. Hugo slowed, pulled over, and stepped out.
Lying in the gutter was a small, silver lapel pin, the kind worn on tailored suits,except this one was engraved with a crest Hugo recognized instantly. It belonged to a private security firm known for working in the shadows.
He turned it over in his fingers, his jaw tightening. Whoever that man was, he wasn't just some random lurker.