"A car worth forty billion? You expect me to believe that?"
Shaw burst into mocking laughter, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "If you say forty billion, then I'll say a hundred billion!"
Leon remained calm, his tone unshaken.
"What if there was a car… one that could run 4,500 kilometers in five hours, without refueling, with infinite endurance, bulletproof and explosion-proof, unlimited nitrous boosts. Would forty billion still sound too much? Would you want it? Could you buy it?"
His words hit like a hammer. Shaw froze. His instinct was to sneer, to call it nonsense, but when the words reached his throat, they got stuck there. Because if such a machine truly existed… even forty billion would feel like a bargain.
And then reality struck him. Last night, someone had done the impossible — crossing the United States in five hours. Creating a legend that should not exist.
That someone was standing right in front of him.
And that someone owned a car unlike anything else on Earth.
Eteon's ambush, the AH-64 Apaches, the Hellfire missiles, the full-scale hunt — Leon had not only survived, he had destroyed their forces, taking down helicopters and trained men.
This wasn't a fluke.
For the first time, Shaw admitted it to himself: Leon was not a simple garage owner. He was something else entirely.
Leon, noticing Shaw's hesitation, struck.
In a flash, he snatched Shaw's gun and leveled it at his head.
"You lost."
Shaw stood paralyzed. His mind reeled. He was a former MI6 operative, a man with elite combat skills. Even after his betrayal by Brixton and his fall into the underworld, his hands had never failed him. No one had ever taken a gun from him like that. Until Leon.
The move had been so fast, Shaw hadn't even seen it. His weapon was simply… gone.
"You win," Shaw said bitterly, his voice low. "As for O'Neal's matter, consider it wiped clean."
Defeat was bitter, but Shaw wasn't a fool. Leon wasn't just strong — his calm, his speed, his confidence… it all screamed that he was operating on another level.
And then Shaw remembered the black Diomas Nilo parked outside. Sleek, menacing, far more commanding than his McLaren 720S. That car alone proved Leon's power and wealth.
Ding—
The elevator doors slid open.
A mountain of a man stepped out. Broad shoulders, towering presence, muscles filling the frame of the doorway — Luke Hobbs.
"Shaw?" Hobbs' brows furrowed in irritation. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Shaw's expression darkened. Seeing Hobbs was like a slap to the face. "You brainless lump of muscle. Don't provoke me."
The air grew tense.
Hobbs, a DSS agent, embodied strength and loyalty. Shaw, once a top MI6 operative, had become a rogue after Brixton's betrayal and false framing. Their histories collided violently — they had fought once before, and Shaw had ended up in prison.
Now fate had thrown them together again.
But this time, both were here for the same reason.
"My subordinate, Elena, is in this hotel. Get out of my way," Hobbs barked, glaring.
"Bullshit," Shaw snapped back instinctively. "My sister's in there!"
Both men froze, eyes swiveling in unison toward Leon.
"Wait… what?"
Inside the presidential suite's meeting room, Elena and Hattie Shaw each handed a coffee cup to Hobbs and Shaw.
The two men's faces turned pitch-black.
Especially Shaw's — it looked like he was about to choke on his own fury.
Leon had done it again. He had achieved what Shaw could only dream of. And the fact that it involved his own sister… only made the humiliation burn deeper.
"You two know him?" Hobbs finally demanded.
Elena hesitated, then nodded. "He helped me modify my Porsche. When things got critical, I went to him. He said he could get us to New York in five hours… so we trusted him."
Her voice trailed off.
Hobbs inhaled sharply, his massive chest rising. That question had plagued him from the start: car or plane?
From Los Angeles to New York was nearly 4,500 kilometers. By air, about 3,950. On land, impossible.
The U.S. had no high-speed rail like Europe or Asia. The Acela Express capped at 240 km/h, and standard trains rarely exceeded 128 km/h. Even by private jet, the time window was razor-thin.
And yet Leon had driven.
"How the hell did you do it?" Hobbs asked, astonished.
"He's got a forty-billion-dollar car," Shaw muttered bitterly, still reeling.
"What?" Hobbs blinked. That number didn't make sense. The most expensive vehicles on record — golden Rolls-Royces, bespoke Bugattis, limited hypercars — barely scratched the billions, and even those were more art pieces than machines.
But Leon's machine… had crossed a continent in five hours while under fire from missiles and Apaches.
Leon calmly sipped his coffee, unfazed by their disbelief.
"Actually, it can go faster. Last night, we were slowed by Eteon's ambush. Roadblocks, mines, choppers, Hellfires… all of it cost time. Without them, the car could do better."
The room went silent.
Shaw's jaw tightened until his teeth hurt. Hobbs' eyes widened, trying to process it.
And Hattie and Elena?
They just smiled quietly, watching Leon drop yet another impossible line like it was nothing.
This wasn't arrogance.
This was reality.
~~----------------------
Patreon Advance Chapters:
[email protected] / Dreamer20