The rain in Freenly City had turned into a steady, rhythmic drumming against the roof of the executive sedan. Inside, the cabin was a cocoon of expensive leather and the faint, citrus scent of Marcus's cologne.
Marcus kept his hands steady on the steering wheel, but his eyes constantly flickered toward the rearview mirror, watching the small, pale figure huddled in the back seat. Luca looked smaller than usual without his sweater, his white undershirt making him appear ghostly in the dim streetlights.
"You really stirred the hornets' nest today, kid," Marcus said, his voice soft but weighted with a lingering shock. "I've worked for Malcolm Ford for six years. I've seen him fire board members for a typo. I've seen him ignore supermodels like they were furniture. But I've never heard him sound... like that. That roar? That was something else. What did you say to him after I left with the lady?"
