Chapter 27
Lyra's POV
After finishing my conversation with Orion, I slipped my phone into my pocket, took a deep breath, and picked up my motorcycle keys again.
Though Kael's warning earlier had been unsettling, I couldn't afford to waste time.
I had to seize every minute to practice, ensuring I could win the race against Vex.
I left the apartment and headed toward the underground garage.
The night streets were sparsely populated, the streetlights casting dim yellow light that stretched my shadow long across the pavement.
I had just reached the building's ground floor when I suddenly heard footsteps behind me.
The sound was light—if I hadn't been in a state of heightened alertness these past few days, I might not have noticed it at all.
Someone was following me.
My heart lurched, but I kept my expression neutral, continuing to walk forward as if nothing were wrong.
When I reached a corner, I casually glanced back without breaking stride.
Just as I turned my head, a furtive figure flashed past the street corner, quickly ducking behind a wall.
I smiled coldly to myself.
Kael clearly hadn't fully trusted me after all. Though my earlier show of vulnerability had made him lower his guard somewhat, he'd still sent someone to tail me.
I quickly weighed my options.
If I went to the practice track now, that tail would surely report back to Kael.
Then Kael would know I was participating in underground racing, which would make him start questioning my real reasons for going out. Once his suspicions deepened, forget the race against Vex—whether I could even leave the apartment would become questionable.
This wouldn't just disrupt my plans; it could put me in even greater danger.
I had to change course and find somewhere reasonable to go.
I immediately thought of Anvil Garage.
If I went there to work on my bike, Kael shouldn't suspect anything—after all, Anvil Garage was famously professional in the underground racing scene, a place many riders went to tune their motorcycles.
With that in mind, I changed direction, wheeling my motorcycle toward Anvil Garage.
The tail behind me continued to follow at an unhurried pace, maintaining a fixed distance.
Thirty minutes later, I stopped in front of a dilapidated industrial building.
This place had once been an abandoned auto repair shop, now converted into a custom garage.
The words "Anvil Garage" were scrawled in red paint across the metal roll-up door, and several modified motorcycles were parked outside, engine parts and tools scattered on the ground.
I pushed the door open.
The garage reeked of motor oil and metal. Ren Voss was crouched beside a disassembled motorcycle, wrench in hand, focused intently on adjusting something.
Hearing the door open, she looked up, her gaze sliding past my shoulder toward the street outside. "Why'd you bring a little tail with you this time?" she said flatly.
I froze for a moment, immediately realizing that Ren had already spotted my follower.
As expected of the former "Bone Collector"—this kind of awareness wasn't something ordinary people possessed.
Not long after she spoke, the feeling of being watched suddenly vanished.
I glanced back. The street corner was empty.
Ren's reputation in Chicago's underground world was formidable enough that the tail obviously didn't dare risk being discovered by continuing to follow, and had retreated to a safe distance.
After confirming I was safe, I relaxed and looked at Ren.
"Sorry for the trouble."
Ren set down her wrench and stood up.
She was tall, with a scar running from the corner of her left eye to her cheekbone, radiating an aura of danger that kept people at arm's length.
But her eyes were calm, devoid of unnecessary emotion.
"Orion told me about your situation," she said, her tone neutral. "Kael's having you followed?"
"Yes," I answered honestly. "He saw me leaving late at night and got suspicious. I just came here as an excuse to throw him off. Once his man reports back that I came to the garage, he shouldn't suspect anything."
Ren nodded in understanding.
She walked over to my motorcycle and circled it, then patted the body.
"Since you're here, I'll fine-tune the configuration for you." She looked up at me. "Your suspension and fuel injection system both need adjusting. If Orion found out I let you ride around on a bike that wasn't properly tuned, he wouldn't let me hear the end of it."
I paused, Orion's gentle smile involuntarily surfacing in my mind.
I found myself defending him instinctively. "He's actually very easygoing."
Ren laughed, a note of knowing amusement in the sound. "Easygoing?" She shook her head.
"Lyra, I've worked for Orion for many years, and I've never once thought of him as easygoing."
As she spoke, she began disassembling my motorcycle with practiced, professional movements.
"The Supreme Alpha of the Northern Thirteen Wolf Packs didn't get to that position by being gentle and kind. He has methods, he has power. The only reason he seems easygoing around you is because that person is you."
My face flushed involuntarily.
Ren's words brought back many details—the composed confidence Orion showed when he intervened on my behalf, the gentle look in his eyes when he turned on the light for me in the car, and his determination to help me investigate the Blood Moon Cult even if it meant swallowing his pride to cooperate with Kael.
So his kindness toward me, his gentleness, wasn't because that was his nature—it was because he chose to be that way with me.
At this realization, my heartbeat inexplicably quickened, an indescribable emotion churning in my chest.
Ren said nothing more, focusing entirely on tuning my motorcycle.
She completely recalibrated the bore, suspension, and fuel injection system.
"Try it," she said with satisfaction, patting her hands together and gesturing toward the newly transformed motorcycle. "Take it for a spin and see how it feels."
I put on my helmet and started the engine.
The moment I twisted the throttle, I could feel the difference immediately.
The bike's acceleration was more aggressive, its cornering more stable, and the feedback from the entire frame at extreme speeds was even more precise than my Ducati from three years ago.
I circled the open area outside the garage several times, each acceleration, each brake, each turn filling me with delight.
The bike's performance now could easily rival the machines of top riders in the underground racing scene.
I reluctantly rode back to the garage, removed my helmet, my eyes bright with excitement.
"Ren, you're a genius. This bike is in perfect condition now."
Ren gave my shoulder an approving pat. "Now that you have a good bike, the rest depends on your skills. Remember, the bike is just a tool. What really matters is the rider."
I nodded and reached for my wallet. "How much do I owe you for this tune-up? I—"
Ren raised a hand, cutting me off with a smile. "No need to pay. Orion's compensation is far more generous than you'd imagine.
Besides," she said, her expression turning serious as she looked at me, "he specifically instructed me to take good care of you."
My hand froze mid-air, clutching the wallet, as that complex emotion surged through me again.
Even though I had willfully run away from our arranged marriage five years ago, Orion was still doing so much for me.
He'd arranged for Ren to protect me, tuned my motorcycle, even involved himself in Chicago's dangerous politics at considerable cost, all just to see me once.
And I had nothing to give him in return.
"Thank you, Ren," I said earnestly. "And please thank Orion for me too."
After Ren nodded in agreement, I bid her farewell and rode away from Anvil Garage.