Chapter 672
Chapter 672:
He saw the suspicion in Lucian’s eyes flicker and die, dismissed by the pathetic rasp of his voice.
He was careful not to use any electronic distortion. Nero used a modulator, and Lucian was smart enough to link the two if the tech sounded similar. This had to be purely biological acting.
“Get lost,” Lucian growled. “Both of you p>
“Don’t be like that,” Skye said. She tapped the steering wheel. “It’s really coming down out there, Lucian. And this neighborhood? At night? Not exactly the Ritz p>
Lucian looked around.
The streetlights were flickering. The few people walking by were eyeing his suit and his crippled car with predatory interest. He checked his pockets. His phone was dead—battery drained during the booking process.
And he couldn’t call the Syndicate for a pickup. They didn’t offer roadside assistance for incompetence.
He was stranded.
“Need a lift?” Skye asked. Her smile was sharp enough to cut glass. “Uber surge pricing is crazy right now. But for you? One thousand dollars. Cash p>
Lucian felt the heat rush to his face. “I would rather walk through hell p>
“Suit yourself,” Skye said. She began to roll up the window.
Thunder cracked overhead, shaking the ground. The sky opened up.
It wasn’t just raining anymore; it was a deluge. Within seconds, Lucian’s suit was plastered to his skin. The cold water seeped into his bandage, stinging the wound.
He shivered. The cold was seeping into his bones. He couldn’t walk ten miles in this. Not with a bullet wound. Not with targets on his back.
“Wait!” Lucian shouted over the roar of the rain.
The window stopped. Skye looked at him, waiting.
“Two thousand,” Lucian choked out. The words tasted like ash. “Take me to the Graves Tower p>
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Skye tutted, wagging a finger. “That was the dry rate, Lucian. The wet rate? Inflation is a bitch.” She paused, calculating. “Five thousand. And you sit in the back. I don’t want you dripping on my leather p>
Lucian reached into his inner pocket. He had exactly five thousand dollars—the emergency cash his lawyer had handed him along with the car keys. It was all he had on him.
He pulled out the envelope. It was damp.
Preston whistled low, a wheezing, airy sound. “Look at that. He’s actually got it. Drug money p>
“Consulting fees,” Lucian snapped.
He threw the envelope through the window. It landed on Liam’s lap.
Liam opened it with two fingers, checking the contents with exaggerated slowness. “Looks legit p>
“Get in,” Skye said, unlocking the back door.
Lucian yanked the door open and collapsed into the back seat. He smelled of wet wool and defeat. He sat there, shivering, water pooling at his feet.