Evelyn began walking toward the door, her steps deliberate, almost hypnotic, letting the faint sway of her hips punctuate her calm. She murmured under her breath, "Greedy men, everywhere. Now that's the spirit."
She checked her watch: 4:46 pm. A wave of fatigue hit her, but she ignored it. She needed to go home, needed a quiet moment before the next meeting. Music filled her car, the pop beat a small comfort against the storm of adrenaline still coursing through her.
Traffic slowed her, stretching her patience thin. She muttered under her breath, tapping the steering wheel to the rhythm of the song. By 6:50 pm, she was close to home. She parked, locked the car, and exhaled a long, heavy sigh.
Finally, she thought, I found someone who's willing to work with me on the Montclair case. The anticipation made her pulse quicken—not from fear, but from excitement.
Next week, she would meet his uncle. That meeting had the potential to unlock crucial pieces of the puzzle.
She pressed her lips together in a small, proud smile. I'm finally getting somewhere, she told herself. For the first time in weeks, it felt like progress—not just chasing leads, but making real headway.
But relief was short-lived.
Two shadowed vehicles lingered nearby, engines idling. Evelyn's eyes narrowed, pulse quickening.
"Shit," she whispered, gripping the wheel tighter.
The ignition betrayed her, stuttering twice before finally turning over. Her stomach knotted; the men noticed immediately. Engines roared, headlights cutting through the dim evening. They were moving in.
"Come on… pick up!"
she muttered, panic climbing her throat. She glanced back, saw the men's taillights burning red like hot coals, and pressed the gas pedal harder.
Bullets rang out, pinging her car as she ducked instinctively. They leapt from their vehicles, closing in. Her hands shook as she tried the ignition again—it roared to life. Relief surged briefly, only to be replaced by the creeping dread curling in her stomach.
She wove through narrow streets, turning sharply, gripping the wheel until her knuckles whitened.
How did they even know where I live? Her eyes widened as a platinum car appeared suddenly ahead, forcing her to slam the brakes
Her car died. Panic gripped her chest. She banged the steering wheel, heart hammering.
"I hate you… damn it!"
The road was empty, the gate open. She forced herself to sit up straight, taking in a deep breath despite the shaking coursing through her body.
Then they smashed the window. Hands yanked her out of the car, cold metal pressing against her arms.
"If you've got a crush on me," she said, teeth clenched but voice steady, "do it in public. You don't need a private road."
The taller one sneered. "I warned you. Stay away from this case." He shoved her to the ground, the impact jarring through her shoulders.
Evelyn's gaze was sharp. "Did Silas send you?"
The other crouched in front of her, holding her face lightly, mock politeness dripping from his tone. "Pretty face… don't worry, I won't touch it."
Evelyn smirked, her calm veneer unmoved. "I've already called backup. You really think I'd let you chase me alone? They'll be here in minutes."
The gun rose. "Go to hell," he spat.
Her ears pressed to the tension around her, she tensed, waiting for the inevitable. Then the first shot rang out. Her body froze—but she wasn't hit. Slowly, she peered up. One man crumpled, bleeding, unconscious. Mist rolled across the road like a living, breathing predator.
The other panicked, scanning the fog, gun shaking. Another silent shot hit its mark; he staggered, clutching his shoulder.
Evelyn's breath caught. There's something bigger than me here…
She rose, knees weak, unsteady. In the swirling mist, a figure emerged. White suit. Perfectly poised. Cold and imposing.
"Mr. Montclair… Silas?"
Her heart twisted. Why would he save me? Didn't he send them?
Police sirens cut through the mist, lights painting the shadows red and blue. Officers moved in, guns raised, radios cracking. Silas remained motionless, watching, inscrutable.
Evelyn's gaze darted from the bodies to him and back again, her mind racing. Confusion, fear, and the tiniest thread of awe knotted her stomach. She had never faced someone like him. Not in her life.
-----
The police had already surrounded the area. Red and blue lights flashed across the quiet street as the officers questioned Silas. Evelyn stood a few steps away, still trying to steady her breathing, watching as the paramedics lifted the injured men onto stretchers and pushed them into the ambulance.
"Self-defense," Silas said calmly when one of the officers questioned him.
Evelyn turned her head slightly, surprised.
Self-defense?
He wasn't the one who had been threatened.
Silas sighed and pressed two fingers against his temple as though the whole situation had been an inconvenience.
"They nearly damaged my eardrum," he added, his tone almost irritated.
Evelyn blinked in disbelief.
Eardrum?
She had just been seconds away from getting shot, and he was complaining about his ears.
Then Silas gestured toward his platinum-colored car. White smoke slowly rose from the hood.
"They destroyed my toy."
Evelyn's eyes widened.
Toy?
So the mysterious fog that had made his entrance look so dramatic had only been smoke from a damaged car… and he was casually calling a million-dollar vehicle a toy.
This man is unbelievable.
A paramedic approached Evelyn carefully, noticing the way her hands trembled.
"Ma'am," he said gently.
Before she could respond, he wrapped a thick emergency blanket around her shoulders. The warmth surprised her. She hadn't realized how cold she felt until that moment.
"Let's get you somewhere safe," he added.
Evelyn didn't argue. The adrenaline that had carried her through the attack was fading, leaving her body weak and shaken.
As the paramedic guided her toward the police car, she glanced back over her shoulder.
Silas was still standing by the road, surrounded by officers. Calm. Composed. As if nothing that had just happened had been unusual to him.
One of the officers was questioning him, notebook in hand, but Silas looked almost bored.
Evelyn frowned slightly.
Who exactly are you…?
The car door closed beside her with a dull thud, cutting off the flashing lights and distant voices.
The police vehicle pulled away from the scene.
********
By the time Evelyn arrived at the station, the shock had begun to settle into her bones.
She sat quietly in the interrogation room, her fingers resting against the cold metal table as the night replayed in her mind.
Why would someone send people to kill me?
Stay away from the case… what case?
Hayes?
Does someone else know something I don't?
The sound of the iron door opening interrupted her thoughts.
She looked up.
Silas stepped inside.
His suit jacket was gone now. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his forearms, the top buttons undone, his tie nowhere in sight. He pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down slowly, clasping his hands together as if they were about to discuss business.
Evelyn's eyes narrowed.
"Why did you send those men after me?" she asked, her voice firm.
Silas calmly adjusted the sleeve on his arm.
"Why would I do that?"
Evelyn bit the inside of her lip.
"Because I'm digging into your case… and you wanted me gone before I got too close."
Silas chuckled softly, the sound low and amused.
"Thanks for the suggestion," he said. "Next time I'll consider it."