Chapter 154
Chapter 154:
While they plotted indoors, Rylie walked out of the hospital, helmet in hand, ready to hop on her motorcycle. Just as she was about to mount, she spotted a group of boys shoving an elderly beggar.
The man tried to shield his body, but the kids pushed him over.
From the ground, his strained voice cracked. “Stop! Don’t do that p>
Rylie’s expression turned icy. She marched over and seized the leader by the collar. “At your age, and you’re already picking on the elderly? Who raised you p>
Startled by her fierce tone, the boys scattered and ran.
Rylie crouched to gather the man’s bread. Once she helped him up, he took her hand and said with gratitude, “Thank you, dear. I had no idea what to do p>
“It’s nothing.” Rylie smiled as she steadied him onto his cart. “Some kids just need someone to knock some sense into them p>
After he left, she turned back toward her motorcycle, but a sudden breeze caught her attention. She froze mid-step. Something didn’t feel right.
A sharp, woody scent lingered in the air. It wasn’t the kind of smell you’d associate with a beggar. She knew that fragrance well — an exclusive perfume made in tiny batches. It sold for nearly a million.
Her hand slipped into her pocket. It was empty.
Rylie turned instantly and dashed in the direction the old man had gone. But he was already gone. Not a trace. Whoever he was, he knew how to move undetected. Still, Rylie believed no one could disappear so cleanly that she couldn’t catch them.
She stood by her motorcycle again, one foot planted, staring down the vacant street. Her voice came soft, accompanied by a grin. “Interesting p>
Rylie had a rare talent for reading the human body and predicting motion. One glance at the alleyway and surrounding road was enough. She veered off toward a narrow lane up ahead.
She hit the brakes at a sharp turn and caught sight of a scuff mark on the right wall. It was faint but recent. Clearly, a car had left its mark. Smirking, she followed the trail.
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Barely three minutes passed before she trapped the vehicle in a cul-de-sac. Rather than surrender, the driver floored the gas. The van surged forward, heading straight for her.
He figured she’d panic and jump out of the way. That illusion shattered when she drew a pistol with practiced ease, flicked off the safety, and raised it — aiming straight at the windshield.
Tires screamed. The vehicle jolted to a stop, just a yard from where she stood. The door creaked open, and the “old beggar” stepped out. Looking at Rylie, he laughed, his voice unexpectedly youthful this time. “So, the Owen girl’s this sharp. Didn’t think anyone out there could track me down p>
Rylie recognized the voice at once. Gun lowered, she asked, “How much did Laurel offer you p>
The man yanked the synthetic layer off his face, stunned by how closely her voice matched his employer’s. “Who are you?” he asked cautiously.
Rylie didn’t answer. Instead, she extended her palm. “Give me the phone p>
Though his mind hadn’t caught up yet, his body obeyed. Devin Finch walked over, eyes still wide, and handed over the stolen device without a word. Then Devin’s face shifted. His eyes widened as he stared. “You’re the Healing Hand p>