Chapter 6 Attacked

Cristian Reed, who was sprawling in the backseat, remained silent, his eyes firmly shut.

"Wow, the girl is stunning! Check out those legs-so beautiful and flawless! Did you see her toss that can, Cristian? She's got skills that could rival yours!"

Bobby's incessant babble finally pierced Cristian's reserve. With a sigh, Cristian's eyes fluttered open.

Just then, the headlights from an approaching vehicle swept across his face, accentuating its angular contours and highlighting a small mole beneath his eye.

Drawing out his words, Cristian replied with a lazy drawl, his voice a deep, soothing rumble laced with a trace of exhaustion, "Aren't you getting engaged soon? Isn't the eldest Morgan daughter meant to be yours?"

Bobby visibly flinched at the mention, his expression contorting into one of clear distaste. "She's nothing but a stray who got lost as a child and grew up in some nowhere place. Who's to say she isn't just a goddamn ugly rural bumpkin? My friends probably see me as some unlucky fool. Cristian, you are my cousin. You should not make fun of me like they do!"

Cristian merely crossed his arms, extending his long legs and settling back more comfortably without a word.

The silence seemed to deepen Bobby's frustration, as if sealing his fate.

Yet, as Bobby's eyes landed on the girl's striking figure under the streetlight again, his mood shifted, and a flicker of curiosity lit up his face.

With a playful grin, Bobby lowered the window and leaned slightly out, his tone dripping with charm. "Hey there, gorgeous. Can I offer you a ride?"

"No, thank you." Her words were crisp and frosty, cutting through the evening like a cold breeze, leaving a chill that touched both men.

In the backseat, Cristian's body tensed. His eyes snapped open, his head whipping around toward the sound of the voice.

That voice? It unmistakably belonged to the girl he had met in that dimly lit motel.

Cristian acted with such swiftness that he seemed to blur the lines between thought and action as he swung the car door open and emerged.

Fernanda mistook his approach for a mere flirtatious gesture. Without giving him another thought, she turned away and continued on her path. She had only taken a few steps when she felt a strong, unyielding grip halt her progress.

She spun around, coming face-to-face with the man who had stopped her.

Towering and strikingly handsome, he possessed an aura of undeniable presence.

One hand was nonchalantly placed in his pocket, while the other securely grasped her arm. His piercing gaze locked with hers.

"Well, if it isn't you!" Cristian muttered slowly, a hint of recognition in his voice. "Seems like we keep meeting, huh?"

Fernanda's eyes flickered with surprise as she realized who he was-the man from that unforgettable night.

Given that he was a dangerous fugitive, she wanted to keep her distance from him. Swiftly regaining her composure, she adopted an aloof demeanor. "I'm sorry, sir. You must be mistaken," she replied evenly.

"No," Cristian responded, his voice low and steady, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "A debt of gratitude is something I never forget."

His remark revealed a depth to his character. For Cristian, repaying a good deed wasn't just a courtesy-it was a principle he lived by.

Meanwhile, Bobby had exited the car and now stood a short distance away, his expression one of utter bewilderment. "What's going on?" he inquired.

Cristian brushed off Bobby's presence, focusing instead on holding the car door open for Fernanda with a subtle nod.

Fernanda stayed rooted in place, her gaze sharp with caution. "What do you mean by that?"

"I'd like to take you to dinner. Would you join me?" Cristian urged with a warm, inviting smile.

It came across as a question, but Fernanda could discern from the inflection in his voice that he wasn't genuinely offering her an option to decline.

Her familiarity with his nature left no room for misunderstanding. Refusing him might only provoke him to force her into the car himself.

With a sigh, she gave a subdued nod. "Fine."

A faint smile flickered across Cristian's face as he graciously gestured for her to enter, then smoothly took his place behind the wheel.

Bobby blinked in shock, his mouth hanging open. "You've got to be kidding me, Cristian. This is incredible!"

Cristian had effortlessly ensnared the alluring girl with a mere handful of words, an accomplishment Bobby found profoundly impressive.

As Bobby tried the back door, he found it unexpectedly locked.

"Cristian?" he inquired, a hint of confusion in his tone.

Cristian commanded firmly, "Leave."

Frozen in place in the brisk evening air, Bobby watched the sleek black car vanish into the shadows of the night.

He was the first to spot the girl!

Why had they left him behind?

Inside the car, Cristian shattered the lingering silence by firing off a torrent of questions. "Are you from Esaham or Zhota?"

"Zhota," she answered softly.

"And your name?"

"Letty Molina."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-five," Fernanda replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Cristian stole a sideways glance at her, his voice laced with skepticism. "Doesn't seem like it."

"Reality seldom mirrors our expectations," Fernanda replied, her tone unwavering. "Take your appearance, for instance. In that impeccable suit, you're the perfect picture of a business tycoon. Yet, you're the same fugitive I stumbled upon the other night."

Cristian couldn't help but laugh, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You do have a point."

Fernanda was finally no longer feigning ignorance about their past encounter. Cristian was relieved. Had she chosen to continue her charade, he had his own methods to have her drop the act.

As usual, Esaham's traffic was a snarled mess. Cristian veered onto a less congested side street, hoping to evade the endless sea of cars.

Breaking the silence, he suggested, "I know a cozy spot run by a Zhota native-serves excellent food. Let's head there."

"Sure," she replied, her tone calm but firm.

Just as Fernanda's reply hung in the air, a jarring crash echoed from behind, jolting the car forward. She was thrust back, the seatbelt gnawing into her shoulder.

Cristian's gaze darted to the rearview mirror.

Suddenly, a van cut sharply across their path, blocking them.

On either side, vehicles converged, spilling out men brandishing grim tools, their silhouettes ominous in the dim streetlight.

Without hesitation, Cristian reached into the center console, retrieving a knife.

"Whatever happens, keep yourself inside the car. Don't even think about stepping out," he instructed firmly, pressing her back into the seat. With a resolute nod, he went on, "I'll take care of them, and afterward, dinner's on me."