On a distant street corner, the atmosphere inside an inconspicuous black sedan was palpably tense.
"Sir, Seraphina... oh, no, I mean Seraphina Sterling—she just got into Justin Hale's car!" Hughes had originally called her Seraphina, but ever since his phone was destroyed last time, that nickname was now completely forbidden.
"I have eyes. I can see," Terrence Grant said, deftly twirling a sharp throwing knife in his hand. The sight made Hughes's heart lurch with every rotation.
"Sir, should we follow them?" Hughes was terrified that the sharp, scalpel-sized throwing knife in Terrence Grant's hand would fly straight into him.
'Just why has Sir gotten so into these dangerous weapons lately? It seems he started playing with throwing knives ever since Seraphina Sterling demonstrated her god-like accuracy in front of him. Seraphina Sterling, you are a true menace!'
