Chapter 4: The Price of a Life

Words : 2002 Updated : Oct 17th, 2025

"Slow down, slow down." "Keep driving like this and we're gonna die!" "…" Maddie Zimmerman got dizzy, her head spinning. She gripped the seat so hard her knuckles went white and, for the first time, seriously thought Lewis Casson must be a complete maniac. It was a busy street, with cars streaming by in both directions. Who drove like this here? It felt like we were in bumper cars, and it terrified her. Lewis lit a cigarette, glanced back, and flashed a grin. "Assistant Zimmerman, this is what you asked for. If I don't floor it, how can we make it in half an hour? Missing the chance to work with you would be my biggest regret. I've got to risk it." Maddie was speechless. She felt like she'd picked up a stone only to drop it on her own foot, a thousand curses stampeding through her head. Lewis never broke a sweat; he just kept pushing the speed up. More than once they seemed bound to rear-end the car ahead. Maddie shrieked and braced for impact, sure it was over. Yet each time, Lewis slid through with flashy, razor-sharp moves, so smooth it felt unreal. They kept pushing hard, and when the Western District Building Materials Market was only three kilometers away, there were five minutes left. Maddie thought she'd won. Then up ahead she saw a knot of people blocking the road. Two cars had collided, and the drivers were yelling at each other. Lucky break! She clenched her fist and, in a sing-song, sarcastic tone, said to Lewis, "What a pity. In the end, you and I just aren't meant to be colleagues." Lewis exhaled a lazy smoke ring. "You really think so?" "Of course." Her smile turned smug. "Even if you got out and muscled them out of the way, you still wouldn't make it in time." "Who says I'm getting out? Watch closely." Lewis's grin sharpened. He mimicked gunshots perfectly-bang, bang, bang-just with his mouth. Everyone arguing-and the onlookers-panicked and bolted for cover. The lightly injured driver scrambled back behind the wheel and sped off. Lewis seized the opening, laughed, and gunned it through. He barreled toward the destination as fast as traffic would allow. Sound effects. Of course this psycho can do those too. Maddie's face went dark. She was boiling inside. Faced with a guy like this, how on earth was she supposed to beat him? They reached the destination. Lewis slammed on the brakes. Maddie threw open the door and retched on the curb. Lewis got out, patted her back, and handed her a tissue. "You should've told me you get carsick. I could've eased off a bit. Heh." She wiped her mouth and shot him a venomous glare. "Don't get cocky. I'll remember this, and you'll pay for it." "Tomorrow can take care of tomorrow. Right now I want to know if I'm officially the CEO's personal bodyguard and driver." Maddie hated his swagger most of all. When had she ever been played like this? She wanted to take it back on the spot, but years of discipline kept her silent. She drew a long breath and forced her anger down. "Yes. You're officially hired. The CEO flies back from overseas tomorrow. Be at the airport at ten to pick her up." She spoke as she tossed him the car key. Given how things stood, she decided to keep Lewis placated while she quietly dug into his past, then decide her next move. If she refused him now, she had no idea what twisted stunt he'd pull to get his way. This was the safest play for the moment. Lewis snatched the key and laughed. "I've barely started, and you're giving me the car. Aren't you afraid I'll take off with it?" "Will you?" Maddie shot back. She didn't believe for a second that Lewis would ditch a chance to get close to the CEO for a set of wheels. A hard light flashed in Lewis's eyes. He bared his teeth in a smile. "No. Assistant Zimmerman, you look white as a sheet. Want me to take you to a hospital?" "No need. Remember, ten o'clock tomorrow morning. Airport." "Got it. I'm off." Lewis gave Maddie a cheeky little wave, whistled, and slid behind the wheel. Maddie's temper spiked. She stomped her foot and snapped, "Psycho. Elle Group is my turf. I'm not done with you. You're dead." Lewis drove a loop to learn the streets, found a decent restaurant, and ordered beef, lamb, and spicy chicken. He added about a liter of the strongest Warmbrew and ate with contented gusto. After dinner, he drifted to a packed public square to watch the women dancing. He gave cheeky commentary, and a few guys couldn't help shuffling over to ask for tips. Figuring it's better to share the fun, he taught them a couple of moves before strolling away. A little after eight p.m., He parked in the complex, humming a cheerful tune, and headed for his building. In a blink, men sprang out from every side-thuggish, hard-faced bruisers, steel pipes and machetes in their fists, murderous eyes locked on Lewis. "Alright, boys-together. Hack off one of his hands." "Got it." Lewis gave a cold smile. He surged forward, booted the first guy in his path, drove his fist into another guy and dropped him, snatched a steel pipe, and spun it in a blur, cutting his way through the crowd. "My head's gonna explode!" "My legs are broken!" "…" Lewis dusted off his palms and stepped to the man who'd given the order. He planted his heel on the man's hand, voice flat. "Who sent you?" The thug had been confident in his own skills when he came. Now he realized he was no match for the guy in front of him. He didn't dare bluff. He swallowed the pain and stammered, "It-it was Robert Showyer." Lewis's eyes went cold. "Call him. I'll talk." "Yes, yes." The thug's fingers trembled as he dug out his phone, dialed Robert Showyer, and held it out. "Did you do what I told you? Bring that little bitch Emmy Saiger back." "Robert, that was fast." "You?" Robert's voice cracked in surprise. He knew at once the crew he'd sent had failed. "I don't have time to play games with scum. Here's the deal. Wire $300,000 to the account I give you in ten minutes if you want to keep breathing. If you don't, you won't live to see tomorrow." "What? Three hundred thousand?" Robert wanted to curse, Why don't you just rob me? But two straight failures had drained his nerve. Lewis read off his bank details and casually pointed out a minute had already passed. Two minutes later. Heavy breathing flooded the line, then Robert's voice, raw with fear. "Okay. I'll send $300,000." He didn't know what this ruthless man was truly capable of, and he didn't dare gamble. Paying $300,000 to stay alive felt like a bargain. "Smart." The thug and his crew stood stunned. Goddamn, they'd been living with their necks on the line, hustling the streets, and in a lucky year might scrape together just over ten grand. And this guy? He just shook down Robert Showyer, a minor big shot in Melville, for three hundred grand. If word got out, it'd cause one hell of a stir. Right then, the phone buzzed with a bank deposit alert. Lewis's smile turned wicked. His voice sank. "Remember this. It's the second time, and the last. Try again, and say goodbye to this world." He let go. The phone hit the pavement. Lewis didn't spare the thugs another glance. He walked off. At the same time, in a plush private room, Robert Showyer raged. Three hundred grand, gone just like that. How much good liquor and how many women could that have bought? He couldn't swallow it. He brooded a moment, then dialed. His tone went cold. "Get me in touch with Dark Soul's hitters. I'll put up $100,000 for a kill." "Yes, Mr. Showyer."

Chapter 4: The Price of a Life

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