He reached into his pocket, pulled out the car keys, and tossed them toward her.
Amara caught them smoothly with one hand before turning and walking around the Mercedes. She then slipped into the driver’s seat.
A few seconds later, the soft hum of the engine filled the air. Jasper stood there watching quietly as the black car slowly pulled away from the massive Creed mansion and disappeared onto the streets of Manhattan.
The car moved smoothly through the streets of Manhattan.
The weather was cold. Clouds drifted lazily across the pale sky while soft sunlight occasionally slipped through them and reflected against the glass buildings surrounding the city.
The city looked unusually quiet.
Amara lowered the car window further, letting the wind hit her face. The cool breeze brushed against her flushed cheeks and tangled lightly through her hair.
The sunlight fell softly across the side of her face.
It wasn’t harsh like summer sunlight. Instead, it carried a faint warmth that barely softened the coldness lingering in the air.Her fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel as she drove silently through the city.
Eventually, the car crossed into the cemetery grounds and slowly came to a stop.
Amara stepped out quietly. The cold air immediately wrapped around her body as she closed the door behind her. Her heels pressed softly against the stone pathway while she walked deeper into the cemetery.
Rows of gravestones stretched endlessly beneath the gray sky. From a distance, she could already see people gathered around one particular gravesite.
Everyone was dressed in black. The atmosphere was heavy with grief and silence.
Recognizing several familiar faces among the mourners, Amara quietly approached them. She moved through the crowd without speaking, her expression calm as she slowly made her way closer to her grandfather’s grave.
As she got closer, more faces became recognizable.
Distant relatives.
Family business associates.
Old family friends.
Quiet conversations slowly died down the moment people noticed her arrival.
But Amara paid little attention to them. However, her gaze instinctively landed on one man.
Elias.
He stood silently before her grandfather’s grave in a black suit, a bouquet of white flowers in his hand. After placing the flowers carefully in front of the gravestone, he lowered his head slightly, murmuring a quiet prayer beneath his breath.
The cold wind lightly moved the strands of hair falling across his forehead.
Felix stood behind him silently with his hands folded in front of him, his expression solemn and respectful.
Several steps away, three other men naturally stood out among the crowd.
Cassian Han. Xavier Chen. And Lucius Romano.
Even among a crowd full of wealthy and influential people, they drew attention effortlessly.
Broad shoulders.
Perfectly tailored expensive suits.
Cold expressions.
