If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, Elena would never have believed that anyone could drive 1,600 kilometers in just an hour and a half.
From Los Angeles all the way to Denver—that's over sixteen hundred kilometers of road.
And yet, after blasting past Utah, they reached Denver in just about an hour?
Staring out the car window at the dim desert landscape flashing by, Elena's head still felt foggy, as though reality itself hadn't caught up yet.
"...Hattie, are we still dreaming?" Elena turned toward Hattie, her voice trembling.
"No," Hattie's lips had gone pale, her voice weak. "I feel like we've just ridden the world's most terrifying roller coaster."
A woman who wasn't even afraid of Eteon's assassins was now genuinely terrified—just from sitting in Leon's car.
Leon, of course, burst out laughing, his voice booming with unrestrained joy.
"Hahaha! Worth the thirty million, right?"
"I think I'll need to spend another five hundred thousand just to cover hospital recovery costs…" Hattie muttered softly, as if her spine had been shaken into jelly.
Pfft! Elena couldn't hold back a laugh.
The tense mood inside the car eased slightly.
Now that they had shaken off Eteon's small fry, the highway ahead was wide open.
The Diomas Nilo thundered along the asphalt, its roar echoing across the desert. Wherever it passed, the world itself seemed to shudder. Sand and dust whipped up into swirling clouds, even the very crust of the desert floor trembling beneath its tires.
The American police tried to pursue, of course. But by the time they started their engines… Leon's car had already vanished over the horizon.
The cops could only sigh and pretend they saw nothing.
If trouble came later? Well, it wasn't their relatives in danger.
So once again, Leon evaded pursuit with infuriating ease.
"Careful—there's a patrol car up ahead!" Elena suddenly warned.
But Leon had already spotted it.
"Relax. Piece of cake."
He yanked the electronic handbrake—screeeeech! Tires smoked, the Nilo drifted into a perfect sideways arc, sliding past the police cruiser with barely an inch to spare.
As he flew past, Leon even stuck his hand out the window… and flipped them the middle finger.
Arrogant as hell.
Inside the patrol car, the two officers blinked in stunned disbelief.
In just a heartbeat, the black blur was gone, leaving nothing but a tail of flames and a hurricane of wind in its wake. The gust nearly flipped their cruiser off the road, one side's wheels lifting clean off the asphalt before slamming back down.
The cops' faces went pale as chalk.
"W-what the hell was that?"
"I think… a car just passed us."
"Passed? That thing broke the sound barrier!"
"I swear on my eyes, it was gone in a blink!"
Shaken to their core, the two officers exchanged terrified glances.
Here in the American Midwest, far from the West Coast, news of Leon's exploits hadn't spread. None of these old-school drivers had any clue that a new speed god was tearing across the States.
So to them, what just streaked by wasn't a car at all—it was something alien.
Some even reached for their phones, frantically calling it in.
"Hello? Yes, I'm on Highway 1—there's… there's some kind of alien vehicle here!"
"…Aliens?" the dispatcher on the other end went dead silent.
"Yeah! He was going insanely fast!"
The operator pinched the bridge of his nose. Aliens? Really?
"If they wanted to street race, wouldn't they just do it in space?"
Still, he went through the motions. "Did you at least get a license plate?"
"No, he was way too fast! I couldn't even see the car model!"
"How fast are we talking?"
"At least a thousand kilometers an hour! There was even a sonic boom ring!"
"…You're insane."
Click. The dispatcher hung up.
The driver stared at his phone in disbelief, then scrambled to check his dashcam footage.
But the recording showed nothing but a black blur flashing across the frame.
No license plate. No make. Not even a clear outline.
His jaw dropped.
Even the latest dashcam tech couldn't capture it. Just how fast was that thing going?
Unimaginable.
Back in the Diomas Nilo, Leon was laughing so hard his chest hurt.
"Hahaha! Even the cops can't keep up!"
He wasn't wrong—America's highways stretched long and straight, perfect for high-speed runs. But against him, the police didn't stand a chance. Even if they upgraded every cruiser on the force, they still wouldn't be able to touch him.
Elena and Hattie exchanged bitter smiles.
Looking across the whole country… who could possibly catch Leon now?
"By the way," Leon suddenly asked, glancing at them, "how do you two even know each other?"
"There was a mission," Elena explained, "where Hattie and I teamed up to catch someone. That's when we met."
Since they were now allies, there was no point in hiding the truth.
"Who were you catching?" Leon raised a brow.
"…Her brother. Deckard Shaw." Elena answered bluntly.
Leon nearly choked.
Only in America… a sister chasing down her own brother.
One a government agent.
The other a wanted criminal.
Two siblings walking opposite paths in life.
"That's… dramatic, even for you guys," Leon muttered. "So… did you catch him?"
"He let me catch him," Hattie said flatly. "And then I let him go. No reason. Just because I felt like it."
Leon grinned. "Now that's style."
Hattie really was like him—acting purely on instinct and mood.
If she liked you, she'd help you.
If she didn't? You could beg on your knees and it wouldn't matter.
"You've got a good brother. And he's got a good sister." Leon chuckled, shifting gears again.
The Nilo howled as it surged forward, tearing through the highway like a demon set free.
At this point, the car was holding a steady 860 km/h, slightly slowed by the uphill climb.
Once they hit a downhill slope again, Leon knew it would push back up to 900.
If it weren't for the aerodynamic stabilizers he'd installed, the car might already have taken off like a jet.
"We've cleared Denver already," Leon announced. "Next stop: Chicago. Sixteen hundred kilometers to go."
Hattie gave him a thumbs-up. "Five hours to New York? I believe it now."
Even she couldn't deny it. Leon's speed was beyond human.
Ring ring ring…
Elena's phone buzzed. She glanced at the caller ID and her face went stiff.
"It's my commanding officer—Hobbs."
Leon raised an eyebrow. Oh boy… the big bald tank himself.
Hobbs was legendary. A walking mountain of muscle, temper hot as dynamite, veins bulging like coiled ropes. His arms were thicker than most men's thighs—he looked like he lived on a permanent steroid drip.
When he called, people usually listened.
Elena answered immediately. "Yes, sir?"
"Elena—Hattie's with you, isn't she?" Hobbs' voice was rough, urgent.
"Yes, sir. She's carrying the virus."
"Where is it?!"
"In her body. We're headed to New York to extract it."
"What? New York? No, no, no! Bring them to HQ first—I'll figure something out."
"Sir… we already passed Denver. We're en route to Chicago."
"…What?!" Hobbs froze, dumbfounded.
He had gotten intel just two hours ago that they were still outside Los Angeles. And now they were telling him they were already in Denver?
Impossible. Unless they'd secretly taken a plane.
But there was no record of any flight under their names.
"We drove." Elena added casually.
"…"
Hobbs nearly dropped his phone.
"YOU WHAT?!"
Drive?!
Two hours. Sixteen hundred kilometers.
That wasn't driving—that was jet propulsion!
Hobbs rubbed his shiny bald head, his worldview cracking apart.
~~----------------------
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