Not the mother and daughter—but rather the head of A.R.G.U.S. or the true mastermind behind the Queen's Gambit incident?
Was there even a choice?
Dinah Lance, as an A.R.G.U.S. agent, knew very well how difficult it would be to kill Amanda Waller. Even if she succeeded by some miracle, she would be endlessly pursued by A.R.G.U.S. and the U.S. government.
Conversely, although she didn't know who the true mastermind behind the Queen's Gambit incident was, or what power and influence he possessed, Dinah Lance felt no psychological burden at all about killing him to avenge her daughter. She could even use A.R.G.U.S.'s resources to clean up afterward.
"What if we don't choose either?" Dinah Lance asked.
Jack Kadere spread his hands and said nothing.
But in this situation, if they didn't choose, he might kill them, right?
Dinah Lance took a deep breath. "In that case, I choose the murderer who killed my daughter. Tell me his identity, and I will kill him as quickly as possible."
"Once you choose, you can't change your mind. Are you sure?"
"100%."
"What about you?" Jack Kadere looked at Laurel. Although she didn't want to choose either, at this moment, she could only nod in agreement.
Jack Kadere patted Laurel's cheek with satisfaction and said to Dinah Lance, "The person will be handed over to her to kill. You can leave."
Dinah Lance instantly became anxious. "She's just an ordinary person. What you're doing is sending her to her death. Tell me his identity—one week, no, three days. Give me three days, and I guarantee I'll kill him."
"I don't care when he dies, but he must be killed by her. You have no right to bargain. After all, I'm a villain, aren't I?" Jack Kadere smiled brightly.
Villain.
Hearing that word, Dinah Lance felt the irony twist in her chest.
"You can follow her movements, but I advise you not to offer any help. Although I won't kill you, nor will I kill her, I will kill Quentin Lance," Jack Kadere said, his tone leisurely and relaxed.
Dinah Lance might sacrifice her ex-husband for her daughter, but Laurel would absolutely never harm her own father. So even if Dinah offered help, Laurel wouldn't accept it—and might even expose her mother for fear of being misunderstood.
Both mother and daughter wore grim expressions.
"Don't look so gloomy. If you can't help Laurel, you can still continue to trouble me. What if you get lucky and kill me? Then you won't have to worry about her safety or be blackmailed by me anymore." He tilted his head, as if genuinely considering the scenario. "At worst, you two can run away together. Maybe I'll lose interest if I can't find you for a while."
Looking at their distressed faces, Jack Kadere offered his advice with complete sincerity.
"Come on. I'm rooting for you."
"I'll contact you tomorrow." He smiled at Laurel, turned, and walked away.
As his figure disappeared from the factory, the electric python hovering in the distance dissipated. The factory plunged into darkness, leaving only the lonely beam of a flashlight shining on Laurel.
Mother and daughter exchanged glances. Dinah Lance silently approached, trying to get her daughter down, but the steel bars wouldn't budge.
By the time Dinah Lance had exerted all her strength to free her daughter, Jack Kadere had already returned to the apartment.
---
As soon as he opened the door, Felicity leaped from the sofa and threw herself directly into his arms.
"Are you okay? I was so worried."
She was fully dressed—jeans, sneakers, a jacket zipped to her throat. Her laptop bag sat by the door, stuffed and ready.
"I can tell." Jack Kadere patted her back and chuckled. "Wearing this in the middle of the night at home—are you planning to run away with me at any time?"
"You're not really going to run away, are you?" Felicity looked up at him, glasses slightly askew, worry still creasing her brow.
"There's no need for that. Not yet." He brushed a strand of hair from her face. "So take off your clothes and wait for me in the bedroom. I'll be there after a shower."
Jack Kadere leaned down, kissed her softly, then released her and headed for the bathroom.
Felicity let out a long breath. She peeled off her jacket, kicked off her sneakers, and padded toward the bedroom, the tension in her shoulders slowly unwinding.
---
The bathroom door opened, releasing a wave of steam that smelled of soap and something faintly herbal. Jack emerged with a towel slung low around his hips, droplets still clinging to his shoulders.
Felicity sat on the edge of the bed in just her underwear—a simple cotton set, nothing fancy. She'd taken her glasses off, and without them her face looked softer, younger. She opened her mouth to ask what had happened, but he crossed the room in three strides and kissed her before the first word formed.
His hands slid up her bare sides, cool from the shower against her warm skin, and she shivered. The question dissolved somewhere between his lips and tongue. She reached up, fingers threading through his damp hair, and pulled him down onto the bed with her.
"Jack—"
"Later." His mouth traced down her jaw, her throat, teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below her ear. "Ask me later."
Felicity's breath hitched. She tugged at his towel until it came loose, tossed it somewhere behind him. Her palms slid over the hard planes of his chest, his stomach, lower. He groaned against her collarbone.
He unclasped her bra with one hand—practiced, easy—and tossed it aside. His mouth found her breast, tongue circling her nipple until it peaked, and Felicity arched into him with a soft moan. Her fingers dug into his shoulders.
"You're going to leave marks," he murmured against her skin.
"Good."
He laughed, low and warm, and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her underwear. She lifted her hips, let him slide them down her legs. For a moment he just looked at her—spread out beneath him, blonde hair fanned across the pillow, skin flushed pink in the dim lamplight.
He came back safe.
The thought loosened something in her chest, and she reached for him.
Jack settled between her thighs, the thick head of his cock pressing against her entrance. He was already hard, had been since he'd walked in and seen her waiting. She was wet—he could feel it, slick heat against him—but he didn't push in yet. Instead he rocked forward, sliding the length of himself through her folds, the friction dragging over her clit.
"Oh—" Felicity's hips jerked. "Don't tease."
"I'm not teasing." He did it again, slower, watching her face. "I'm savoring."
"Savor faster."
He grinned and kissed her, swallowing her gasp as he finally sank inside. Inch by inch, stretching her open around him, until he was fully seated and they were pressed together from chest to hip.
Felicity wrapped her legs around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back. "Move."
He moved.
Long, deep strokes at first—pulling almost all the way out, then driving back in until she whimpered. The bed creaked beneath them, a rhythmic complaint that matched the pace of his hips. Felicity clung to him, nails raking down his back, her moans muffled against his shoulder.
"Ah— fuck, Jack—"
He shifted his angle, hitched one of her legs higher, and the next thrust hit something that made her vision white out at the edges. She cried out, clenching around him, and he groaned in response.
"There?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
"There— yes, there—"
He gave her what she wanted, relentless now, each stroke punching the air from her lungs. The tension coiled tighter and tighter in her belly, pleasure spiraling upward until she couldn't think, couldn't breathe, could only hold on as the wave crested and broke.
Felicity came with his name on her lips, her whole body trembling, inner walls fluttering around his cock. Jack followed moments later, burying himself deep and spilling inside her with a low groan that vibrated against her throat.
For a long moment they stayed like that—tangled together, breathing hard, heartbeats gradually slowing.
"Okay," Felicity said eventually, her voice hoarse. "Now I can ask."
Jack laughed and rolled onto his back, pulling her with him so she was draped across his chest. "Now you can ask."
But she was already half-asleep, warm and boneless in his arms, and the question could wait until morning.
---
Because of the previous night's activities, they woke up relatively late.
Felicity only had time to confirm with Jack Kadere that there was no immediate need to run before she was rushing out the door for work. The rest of her questions would have to wait until she got home.
Shortly after she left, Jack noticed Laurel also leaving her apartment, preparing to head to class.
He memorized the route, grabbed his keys, and slung his bag over one shoulder.
Jack Kadere left the apartment.
---
"Stop! Don't run!"
"Fuck off! If you've got the guts, catch me, you dead cop!"
As soon as Jack stepped outside, he heard shouts from down the street.
Following the sound, he saw a middle-aged police officer chasing a man who'd snatched someone's bag. Pedestrians scattered in fear. The thief, smugly mocking the officer behind him, sprinted directly toward Jack's direction.