Chapter 154
Chapter 154:
Eliza put it in gear and pulled out into the street. The car absorbed the potholes of New York City as if they simply didn’t exist, its weight low and steady beneath her. It felt grounded. Deliberate. Safe.
She spotted a small logo etched into the corner of the dashboard display. Not the Mercedes star. A stylized K.
Koch?
She shook her head. No — that was too obvious. It had to be the custom shop’s mark. Kustoms, or something equally on the nose.
𝗟𝖺𝘁e𝗌𝘵 с𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘵еrs 𝗼𝗇 ѕ.co𝗺
Still, the suspicion settled into her gut and refused to leave. The seat that fit her perfectly. The heated wheel. The engine that growled like a beast dressed in a vintage suit.
She pulled back to the curb and parked.
“I’ll take it,” she said, her voice firm. “But I’m paying you rent for it.” She knew it was a losing battle — a token gesture, nothing more — but she had to make it.
“Sure, whatever,” Azalea said, waving a breezy hand. Mission accomplished.
Eliza climbed out and started down the sidewalk. Behind her, the car’s lights flickered once, and the locks engaged with a deep, solid thunk — less like a car door and more like a bank vault sealing shut.
It felt as though the car were watching over her. As though he were.
Traffic on 5th Avenue was a gridlock nightmare. Eliza drummed her fingers on the steering wheel of the Ghost — that was what she had decided to call the white car.
She was going to be late for a client meeting at S&D.
She pressed a button on the console marked Assist, expecting a generic GPS map to appear.
Instead, a voice filled the cabin.
“Good morning, Eliza. Traffic on 5th Avenue is heavy. ETA is delayed by twelve minutes p>
Eliza went very still.
The voice was deep. Smooth. Synthesized, yes, but unmistakable. The cadence, the slight drop in pitch at the end of each sentence.
It sounded exactly like Dallas Koch — if Dallas Koch were a robot.
“Who is this?” she asked, staring at the console.
“I am Sentinel. Your vehicle’s operational assistant p>
Eliza laughed — a startled, incredulous sound. “Sentinel? Not something more… theatrical p>
“The designation was selected for optimal functionality p>
“I never set a profile,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
“Rerouting to avoid congestion. Turn right on 42nd Street p>
Sentinel ignored the question entirely.
Eliza listened closely. The measured pause before each response. The quiet authority in the tone. It was him — or a very precise recording of him.
At the Sterling Club, Zane Sterling was practically weeping into his glass of scotch.
“You gave away the Ghost?” He slammed his hand on the table. “The 1965 prototype I spent three years restoring p>
Dallas sat opposite him, attention fixed on his tablet. On the screen, a small white dot moved steadily through a map of Manhattan.
“She needed a car,” Dallas said calmly.
“You could have bought her a Ferrari! A Bentley! The Ghost is one of a kind!” Zane’s voice pitched upward. “It was my baby p>