Chapter 5 5

The window lowered with a soft electric hum.

Victoria Thorne looked at him.

Up close, she was breathtaking, but in a tragic way.

Her blonde hair was pulled back in a severe bun, highlighting the sharp cheekbones and the tension in her jaw.

Her eyes were blue, but they were watery, red-rimmed.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

Her voice was shaky. Guarded.

"Sorry to startle you," Duke said, keeping his hands visible. "I saw the car die. Sounded like a fuse blew."

Victoria let out a ragged breath.

"I... I don't know what it is. It just stopped. And my husband isn't answering his phone, and I'm late to pick up my daughter from ballet."

She glanced at her phone on the passenger seat.

Duke saw the screen.

Calling Simon...

No answer.

"Do you mind?" Duke gestured to the hood. "I used to work in a garage during college. I know these G-Wagons. They have a tricky fuse box."

It was a lie.

He had never worked in a garage.

But as the words left his mouth, a strange pressure built behind his eyes. The System was rewriting his neural pathways in real-time.

_Skill Upload: Basic Mechanical Knowledge (Mercedes Benz G-Class)._

_Status: Active._

Suddenly, diagrams, schematics, and torque specifications flooded his mind. It felt like remembering a memory that wasn't his, a phantom limb of knowledge grafting itself onto his brain.

Victoria hesitated.

She looked at Duke's clothes.

Then she looked at the empty street.

"Please," she whispered. "If you could."

Duke walked to the front of the car.

He popped the hood.

Steam billowed out, smelling of coolant and hot metal.

He reached in.

The engine was hot.

He found the fuse box.

The System highlighted the problem in his vision-a red outline around a loose connection.

Difficulty: Trivial.

Duke reached in.

He ignored the heat.

He twisted the connector.

Click.

He wiped his hands on a rag he found tucked near the battery.

He slammed the hood shut.

He walked back to the window.

"Try it now," he said.

Victoria looked skeptical.

She pushed the start button.

The engine roared to life. Smooth. Powerful.

Her face transformed.

The tension drained out of her shoulders.

She let out a laugh, a sound of pure relief.

"Oh my god," she said. "Thank you. You saved my life."

She grabbed her purse.

She pulled out a wallet. It was Chanel.

She fumbled with some cash. Two hundred-dollar bills.

She held them out to him.

"Here. Please. For your trouble."

Duke looked at the money.

Then he looked at her eyes.

He reached out.

His hand brushed hers.

Her skin was cold. His was warm.

A static shock snapped between them.

Victoria pulled her hand back slightly, but she didn't drop the money.

Duke gently pushed her hand away.

"No," he said softly. "Keep it."

"But you fixed it," she said, confused. "You got your hands dirty."

She looked at the grease smudge on his thumb.

"It was just a loose wire," Duke said. "I'm not going to charge you for thirty seconds of work."

He stepped back.

"Have a good day, ma'am."

He turned to walk away.

The hook was baited.

He counted in his head.

One.

Two.

"Wait!"

Duke stopped.

He turned around slowly.

Victoria was leaning out the window.

"At least tell me your name," she said.

"Duke," he said.

"I'm Victoria," she said. She reached into her console and pulled out a card. "My husband... he's in real estate. If you ever need... I don't know, a reference? Or a job?"

She winced as she said it, realizing how patronizing it sounded given his appearance.

Duke walked back.

He took the card.

Their fingers touched again.

This time, she didn't pull back immediately.

She looked at him, really looked at him.

"Thank you, Duke," she said. Her voice was softer now.

"Drive safe, Victoria," he said.

He watched her drive away.

The taillights disappeared around the corner.

Duke looked down at the card.

Victoria Thorne.

Interior Design.

15 Central Park West.

He ran his thumb over the embossed letters.

The System pinged.

Mission Complete.

Trust Level Established: 12%

New Intel Unlocked: The Bruise.

Duke clenched his fist around the card.

He knew exactly where that bruise came from.

And he was going to make Simon pay for every shade of purple on her skin.