Marcus pushed off the railing, eyes narrowing. "Come on, man. Spill it. What's with the creepy silence?"
He didn't like this new, calm, self-assured Edward. The old Edward had been stressed, perpetually broke, and talked too little —in other words, normal.
"It's mine, Marcus," Edward said simply. "And trust me, it's not junk."
Marcus threw his hands up. "Hold up. Yours? How? You practically had to choose between ramen and the electric bill last week! Did you rob a bank? Is that what the new gym-bro look is about?" His eyes flicked to Edward's broader frame.
Edward laughed, a sound that came easier now. "No banks, no crimes. Let's just say fate finally threw me a bone."
Marcus frowned. "A bone? What kind of bone gets you a new car? You win the lottery? Find a sugar grandma? Bro, don't tell me it's a rusty Corolla with a bumper sticker that says 'My other car is a boat.'"
Edward clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll see. But I've got to move—Aurora Motors closes soon."
Marcus stopped mid-breath. "Aurora Motors? That Aurora Motors? Dude, that place sells cars that cost more than my entire education! You're telling me you're getting something from there?" He scrambled to keep up. "No way you're going without me. I need to witness this miracle in 4K."
Edward couldn't help but grin. For all his noise, Marcus's company grounded him. It made this surreal new life feel… almost normal.
"Fine," he said. "Let's walk. No ride yet."
The walk to Aurora Motors was a blur of Marcus's nonstop questions and Edward's quiet amusement. When the dealership finally came into view—a towering glass monument gleaming under the late afternoon sun—Marcus stopped short.
"Bro…" he whispered. "This place looks like a cathedral for rich people."
Inside, the air was cool, tinged with leather and polish. Cars gleamed under soft light—sleek machines that looked more like art than vehicles. Every surface reflected wealth, confidence, and the quiet power of money.
Marcus leaned closer. "Even the floor looks expensive. I'm lowering the property value just by breathing."
Edward chuckled, but his pulse quickened. He didn't belong here. Not in his hoodie and scuffed sneakers. Not among people who measured life in horsepower and stock options.
A young woman at the reception desk glanced up. Her professional smile faltered for a heartbeat—not from rudeness, but something closer to surprise. "Good afternoon, sir. Welcome to Aurora Motors. How can I help you today?"
"I'm here to collect a Defender Octa 110," Edward said. "Name's Edward Hale."
Her fingers paused mid-tap on her tablet. "One moment, please."She scrolled, frowned slightly, then looked back at him—this time with a hint of respect. "Ah, yes. Everything's in order. The paperwork and payment have been processed. If you'll follow me, Mr. Hale, your vehicle is waiting."
Marcus's jaw had already dropped. He mouthed payment? but followed anyway, eyes darting between Edward and the elegant displays like a man in a dream.
They walked through a corridor lined with glass partitions, each bay holding another shining masterpiece. The air smelled faintly of metal and money. Finally, the woman stopped before a wide glass door.
"There she is," she said softly, gesturing inside.
The room was dim except for one spotlight, which spilled across the sleek, angular frame of the Defender Octa 110.It looked less like a car and more like something forged in a storm—matte silver body, black accents biting along its edges, a silent menace in chrome and light. The Octa badge on the grille gleamed like a predator's eye.
Edward's breath hitched. Even in photos, it had been breathtaking. In person, it was… divine.
Marcus stepped forward, words failing him. "That—no. No way that's yours."
Edward smiled faintly. "Looks that way."
Marcus turned to the saleswoman. "How much does one of these even cost?"
She hesitated, then answered with a courteous smile. "This model? Fully equipped V8 twin-turbo, adaptive terrain drive, titanium exhaust, luxury interior package—about four hundred and fifty thousand, give or take."
Marcus made a strangled noise. "Four… hundred…" He turned to Edward, his brain visibly overloading. "You… you bought a small house on wheels! Bro, you were counting coins for coffee last month!"
The saleswoman blinked, clearly unsure whether to laugh or call security.
Edward accepted the key fob she held out—a small, sleek piece of tech that gleamed like a promise. "Thank you," he said simply.
"Of course, Mr. Hale," she replied, though her voice held a faint tremor. Her eyes flickered over him again, assessing, uncertain. "Enjoy your drive."
She left quickly, still glancing back, as though trying to solve a puzzle that made no sense.
For a moment, neither Edward nor Marcus spoke. The silence stretched, broken only by the hum of distant air conditioning.
Finally, Marcus exhaled. "You're scaring me, man. People don't just wake up rich and buy a Defender. What's going on?"
Edward brushed his fingers along the Octa's hood. The metal was cool and smooth beneath his touch—alive somehow, thrumming faintly under his skin.
"Relax," he said with a quiet grin. "Call it… divine intervention."
Marcus groaned. "Yeah, well, tell your divine buddy I'd like a blessing too."
Edward smiled, opened the door, and slid into the driver's seat. The cabin smelled of leather and adrenaline. The moment he pressed the ignition, the engine growled to life—deep, resonant, alive.
Marcus stood outside, staring as the sound reverberated through the bay. "If I wake up tomorrow and this was a dream, I'm suing you for emotional damage."
Edward met his reflection in the rearview mirror. His eyes looked different—brighter, harder."If it's a dream," he said softly, "it's one I don't plan on waking from."
He shifted into gear. The Octa's engine roared like thunder as they rolled out of Aurora Motors and into the fading sunlight, leaving behind the scent of polish, disbelief, and the quiet hum of something greater awakening.