?Chapter 897:


    A short, humorlessugh escaped Lydia. “That won’t be necessary.”


    Jeffry’s eyes bore into hers. “Stop being stubborn. You’re hurt. That cut needs treatment. Just let me—”


    Just then, Ethan emerged from the building. His calm voice sliced through Jeffry’s words, stopping him mid-sentence. “Lydia, why are you still standing out here?”


    At the sight of Ethan, Lydia turned her attention away from Jeffry as if he no longer existed. “I left my umbre inside.”


    “Then let’s go. I’ll drop you off,” Ethan said, already moving toward the car.


    Lydia gave a quick nod. “Okay.”


    She didn’t hesitate. Without looking back, she walked beside Ethan, leaving Jeffry standing alone in the downpour, his face shadowed with frustration.


    Once inside Ethan’s car, Lydia said nothing. Her gaze drifted to the rain-streaked window beside her.


    Ethan focused on driving, though he caught glimpses of her reflection in the ss—quiet, distant, unreadable. He wanted to ask about the man from earlier but chose to let the silence stretch.


    Rain hammered harder against the windshield, blurring streetlights into smudged halos. The wipers fought to keep up, swiping across a shifting sea of color and water.


    Traffic crawled, jammed by the evening rush and made worse by the storm. At a red light, Ethan finally broke the silence. “You heading back to the dorm?”


    “Yeah,” Lydia replied with a slight nod.


    Since she joined the National Security Bureau, she hadn’t returned to her old apartment. Because she seemed to have no one and nowhere to go, Ethan had quietly made sure she had a ce—a dorm room set aside for agents between assignments. She’d hole up there after each mission, using the quiet to recharge.


    Once, Lydia used to burn brightly, chasing down every thrill with reckless joy. Even under an assumed name back in Foiclens, she made her dull life sparkle. But now, her light had dimmed. She barely reacted to anything. Instead, she buried herself in the most brutal missions—the ones nobody volunteered for. Maybe it was her way of punishing herself. Maybe it was just the only approach that kept Jeffry’s name from wing at her every thought.


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    For months, she had convinced herself she’d moved on. But catching sight of Jeffry today had reopened something raw—like an old scar ring up without warning. That he could still rattle her left a bitter taste. A married man had no business haunting her like this. The thought made her recoil inwardly. Thest thing she wanted now was to return to that sterile, silent dorm. She knew exactly how it would go—the door would close, and her thoughts would unravel all over again.


    “I’m not going back to the dorm,” Lydia said abruptly. “Once we hit the next light, just pull over and let me out.”


    Ethan didn’t respond immediately. His hands stayed steady on the wheel, though his brow creased slightly. “It’sing down hard.”


    “Then I’ll get drenched. That’s what towels are for.” Lydia gave a light shrug. What she craved now was to vanish into the noise, to blur into the chaos and not feel anything for a while.


    Ethan stayed silent, eyes fixed on the blinking red light. Up ahead, Lydia spotted a nightclub and pointed. “Drop me off there.”


    As the light switched to green, Ethan’s gaze flicked toward the building. But instead of stopping at the curb, he swung the car into the lot without a word.


    “Wait—why are you parking?” Lydia asked, caught off guard.


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