Eryx leaned forward sharply, tapping the driver's shoulder.
"Uncle, turn back," he ordered. "We're going home."
The driver nodded and made a quick turn onto the narrow side road. But just as they were about to merge back onto the main street, the car slowed to a halt.
Up ahead, a van had stopped in the middle of the road, hazard lights blinking. Two men stood nearby, pretending to check the engine, though it was clear they were just blocking the way.
Eryx's eyes narrowed.
Before he could say a word, the passenger door of the van swung open and out stepped someone Eryx instantly recognized.
It was the photographer.
The same bastard he had thrown out for harassing Lunara.
The man sneered as he sauntered closer, his hands casually shoved into his pockets, walking towards Eryx's car.
"Well, well, Mr. Grantham," he said mockingly. "Fancy running into you tonight."
Eryx's fingers curled into fists against his thighs, but he remained still, coldly assessing the situation.
