Chapter 211: Chapter 211 Boris’ Obsession

The streetlights passed by in a blur, streaks of orange glowing across the windshield as the silence stretched uncomfortably thick between them.

Lana was holding her breath.

Her eyes had darted to the dashboard clock twice already. Five minutes. That was how long Liam had been driving—no destination, no words, no explanation. Just quiet breathing and an intense grip on the steering wheel. She noticed the way his eyes flicked to the side mirror again and again. The way his jaw was set a little too tight. The way his right foot tapped on the gas every few seconds, almost like he was trying to shake someone off.

This wasn’t the road back to the hotel.

This wasn’t even a familiar road.

She finally spoke.

“Liam… what’s going on? Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer at first. He just continued driving, eyes on the mirror, posture tense.

“Liam,” she repeated, firmer this time.

Still no answer.

A few more seconds passed, then he finally spoke, his voice calm but sharp.

“We’re being followed.”

Lana blinked, then turned and stared out the rear windshield. Nothing but headlights and distant intersections. Just quiet roads and sleepy buildings.

“What?” she asked, confused. “Who? Are you sure?”

Liam didn’t answer that. He just muttered under his breath, “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Her pulse kicked up a notch. “Is it… Boris’s people?”

Liam’s head tilted slightly in her direction, just enough to shoot her a tired look. Then back to the mirror.

“Who else would it be?” he said dryly.

“But why?” Lana whispered, confused. “You literally walked away. He got Ann. What else does he want? What—”

Liam exhaled sharply, turning the wheel and swerving into an empty alley between two buildings, tires crunching over gravel. He killed the headlights as he slowed to a crawl and finally parked near a dark service entrance to some closed warehouse.

“Stay here,” he said, already unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Wait—what? What are you going to do?”

“I’ll be back,” he replied flatly and slipped out of the car.

Lana reached for the door, but something about his tone stopped her. She sat back, nervous eyes watching the side mirror now herself, seeing the faint glow of headlights approach from behind, slowing.

—

A Few Yards Behind…

The dark sedan came to a full stop just at the mouth of the alley. The driver, one of Boris’s guards, narrowed his eyes at the car ahead—Liam’s vehicle, sitting idle, no movement.

Too quiet.

He drummed his fingers against the wheel. One minute passed.

Still nothing.

He leaned forward, trying to see if anyone was in the driver’s seat when—

Tap.

His blood froze.

Slowly, the guard turned his head to the side window.

Liam was standing there. Just standing there. Inches from the glass.

Expression calm.

Eyes cold.

“Shit—!” the guard cursed, fumbling for the ignition, slamming his foot down to the gas.

CRASH!

The side window exploded inward as Liam’s fist punched through it like it was made of thin paper. Shards rained across the seat as the guard’s eyes went wide in disbelief.

The next second, a hand shot in, grabbed him by the collar, and yanked.

The car door flung open and the guard was ripped out of the vehicle like a rag doll, landing hard against the asphalt.

Liam stood over him like a ghost, his stance relaxed, but his eyes were razor-sharp.

The guard wheezed, stunned—but not broken. Not yet.

He quickly rolled to his feet and scrambled backward, putting some distance between them. He stared at Liam with wide eyes.

“You’re fast,” he muttered, brushing glass from his shoulder.

Liam didn’t respond. His fists clenched once.

The guard took a step forward, reassessing.

He hadn’t expected that kind of strength.

But now that he was on his feet—now that the surprise was gone—he could feel the edge return. His own confidence.

Because he wasn’t normal either.

He darted forward, almost vanishing in a blur.

Liam’s eyes widened for a half second—he barely managed to shift his weight to the side, the punch grazing his shoulder instead of smashing into his ribs.

The next second, another attack came—a spinning heel kick aimed right for his head.

Liam ducked.

Fast. This one was exogen.

Enhanced.

Probably speed-type. Maybe even agility and perception.

Liam countered with a jab, but the man slipped it and retaliated with two quick jabs to Liam’s side.

They hurt.

More than they should’ve.

Liam staggered back, blinking.

He’d been in fights. Brutal ones. But this one moved like he was born in combat—trained, enhanced, and lethal.

The guard smirked, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You surprised me at first. But now I see… you’re strong. Still green though.”

Liam exhaled slowly.

So that’s how it was going to be.

No more surprises.

He relaxed his shoulders, settled into his stance.

Time to fight for real.

The wind howled faintly through the alley, carrying with it the stench of oil, wet pavement, and cold metal. Liam stood motionless, eyes narrowed, as the exogen guard launched at him again.

This time, Liam’s gaze was different—sharp, focused. His pupils dilated slightly as he tracked every flicker of motion, every muscle twitch, every slight turn of the man’s heel.

Speed means nothing if you’re already seen it coming.

The moment the guard’s fist came flying in, Liam shifted back with precision—just an inch, just enough to let the punch slide past him.

Then—

He caught the man’s wrist mid-swing.

The guard’s eyes went wide.

Liam’s hand clenched around his arm like an unmovable vice.

The man growled and jerked back, trying to pull free, but it was useless.

Liam’s strength was like a mountain.

The guard twisted, shoved, pushed—nothing.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Liam said coldly.

Then his other hand curled into a tight fist and slammed forward—straight into the guard’s face.

A loud crack echoed through the alley.

The man’s head snapped back violently, and Liam felt the satisfying crunch of bone under his knuckles.

His nose broke clean.

But—

There was no blood.

No reaction.

The man just blinked once, his expression disturbingly calm, as if that punch had been a mild annoyance at best.

Liam’s brows drew together.

What the hell?

He knew the hit landed perfectly. He felt the impact. But the man didn’t even flinch. No blood. No stumble. No pain.

It was unnatural.

And worse, the punch had caused his grip to loosen just enough. The guard slipped free and darted backward, placing several meters between them in a heartbeat.

His eyes weren’t cocky now. They were cold. Measuring.

A moment ago, he thought Liam was just some green kid with a little power.

Now?

Now he wasn’t so sure.

The guard clenched his fists, watching Liam with wary eyes. His breathing was steady, but Liam could tell—he was shaken. No more underestimating.

But he had a choice to make.

Because if anyone from the Solokov family saw him fighting like this in public—using powers in the open—it would be a death sentence.

That was the rule.

Family law.

Exposure was punishable by death.

And Liam was too much of a wild card.

The man hesitated, then turned around without a word and disappeared into the shadows, vanishing down the alley like a ghost.

Liam didn’t chase him.

He didn’t need to.

He already had what he wanted.

He walked back toward the car calmly, shaking his bruised hand once before slipping back into the driver’s seat.

Lana looked at him instantly.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “What happened? Who was that?”

Liam closed the door quietly and turned the ignition.

“He’s gone,” he said.

Lana blinked, confused. “What do you mean gone? Who was he?”

Liam smiled slightly, but there was no humor in it.

“Boris sent someone to follow us.”

Lana’s lips parted. Her confusion slowly shifted into stunned silence.

“What?” she asked after a few seconds. “Why would he—?”

Liam cut her off. “Because of you.”

He started driving again, his tone grim. “The way he looked at you at the party… it wasn’t just passing interest.”

He gripped the steering wheel tighter. His knuckles whitened.

“And Ann,” he continued, his voice lower. “The way she smiled next to him… too perfect. Too mechanical. It wasn’t her.”

Lana sat in silence, stunned. Her mind flicked back to earlier.

Ann had smiled.

She had laughed, nodded, acted all the right ways—but now that Liam mentioned it…

It had been too clean. Even if you are genuinely happy there would still be some discomfort.

But that wasn’t what lingered in Lana’s mind.

It was his eyes.

Boris.

She remembered his gaze—dark, piercing, unblinking.

Like he was trying to peel her clothes off with nothing but a stare.

Lana hugged her arms around herself at the memory.

“Yeah…” she murmured. “I remember. He didn’t even try to hide it.”

Her lips curled in disgust.

“I get those looks all the time. From men. Even from women sometimes. You know how it is. Pretty face, big ass, curves—it’s a magnet for the worst people.”

Liam looked her in surprise like she did not seriously just saw that.

She paused, staring out the window.

“But his eyes… they weren’t just creepy. They were hungry. Like he already owned me. Like I was some… thing.”

Liam didn’t speak, but his jaw tightened again.

He didn’t like hearing that.

Didn’t like imagining it.

Didn’t like the fact that someone like Boris had his eyes set on Lana.

That he’d even dared to put her on some twisted list.

Liam turned the wheel, taking a sharp left into a quieter street.

“He wants to know more about you,” he said finally. “That’s why he sent someone to tail us. To find out where we live. Who you are. What you do.”

Lana swallowed.

“So what now?” she asked.

Liam glanced at her.

“Now?” he said, his tone ice-cold.

“Now we play my game.”

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