chapter 5: lioness on hunt

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[Inside the Terrorist Hideout]

A loud shatter echoed as Chéri crashed through the glass window, emerging like a deadly storm.

The terrorists barely had time to react before she fired two precise shots, dropping two men instantly. Not slowing down, she moved swiftly toward the door. One man was about to shoot at her from the side.

But Her reflexes were faster, and in one swift motion, she pulled out her sword, slicing through the air before embedding it deep into the man's chest, while with her other hand, she turned the doorknob and yanked the door open.

At that very moment, Evan stormed in, firing his gun, his expression dark and deadly.

Behind him, soldiers and special forces charged in, bullets raining down on the remaining terrorists.Bodies dropped. The mission was nearly over. the few survivors...those unlucky enough to be left alive, were forcefully restrained for interrogation.

Agent Carlos shoved a struggling terrorist into the military vehicle, securing the handcuffs tighter.

"Good job, everyone..." Chéri announced, her voice unwavering.

Evan turned to her, his tone colder than ever. "Bother to give us an explanation now?!" he asked, stepping closer, his jaw clenched.

She barely spared him a glance. "I don't owe any explanation to anyone, Agent Evan."

Carlos sighed. "Here they go again..." he muttered under his breath.

Evan's fists curled at her indifference, but he held himself back.

"You're the Chief, yeah, right... Sorry, Chief..." he spat the words bitterly before walking away, his anger barely contained.

Carlos exhaled heavily. "Chief, I think he's really upset this time. It won't be easy to calm him down..."

Chéri remained unaffected. "Don't worry about him, I know him better than you..." she said, turning towards her bike.

Straddling her Storm, she started the engine, the sound cutting through the cold night air.

"Let's go, baby Storm. He's being oversensitive again… Let's appease him," she smirked before speeding off into the night.

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Evan's hands tightened around the handlebars, his jaw clenching in frustration.

'She always behaves as if I'm her enemy...!' he muttered under his breath, twisting the throttle with force.

His bike roared as he picked up speed, weaving through the roads like a storm fueled by irritation.

But just moments later, a familiar sound reached his ears....the low, powerful hum of a bike matching his pace. He didn't need to turn his head to know who it was.

Still, he did.

And there she was.....'Chéri'...

She lifted her helmet shades with a teasing smirk. "Hey, handsome. Wanna have a race?"

Evan scoffed, his grip tightening. "I don't race with witches."

Without warning, he increased his speed, trying to leave her behind.

She arched a brow, her smirk widening. "Let's see then..."

She twisted the throttle, her bike shooting forward like a bullet. In an instant, she was riding alongside him, challenging his lead.

Evan gritted his teeth and pushed his speed further. But she matched him, fearless as ever. The wind howled around them, the world blurring as they raced through the road like two untamed forces.

"This time, I'll win!" Evan shouted over the roaring engines.

"In your dreams!" Chéri shot back, her laughter echoing in the shades of night...

With a final burst of speed, she surged ahead, her bike cutting through the air effortlessly. Evan pushed harder, but she was already ahead. He let out a sharp breath, shaking his head in disbelief.

She finally skidded to a stop, balancing on her front tire, while he came to a halt behind her.

Chéri pulled off her helmet and flicked her hair back. "Now you understand why I'm the Chief, right?" She smirked, her Brown eyes glinting with mischief.

Evan huffed, pulling off his helmet. "Yeah, Yeah..."

Chéri patted his back. "Now drop that angry act, because I'm not saying sorry."

His gaze darkened. "You could've been hurt, Chéri."

She raised a brow. "But look at me...I'm perfectly fine. Why don't you have faith in my abilities?"

Evan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I do, you idiot...But I'm a man. I can’t just help it..."

Chéri rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Chauvinist guy."

"It's not about being chauvinistic," he countered, his voice softer this time. "I just care about you, stupid." He lowered her helmet shades.

"Hey...!" She pouted...

He smirked. "Let's go have coffee first, Chief."

"Rather let's have dinner, Agent Evan."

Evan groaned. "Mom must have prepared dinner. Why eat outside?" Evan spoke while he noticed the slight gap in the zipper of her jacket making her swells visible a bit.

His brows furrowed, and without asking, he reached out and zipped it up completely.

Chéri blinked. "Seriously?"

"You know I prefer homemade food," he said casually, ignoring her glare.

She scoffed. "Archaic mind."

"It's not archaic. It's called decency."

Chéri smirked as she walked toward the café. "I'll see if you say the same thing to your wife one day."

Evan chuckled, shaking his head. "Look, my priorities are clear. Outside, I want my wife to wear decent clothes, but inside the room..." He winked. "She can wear whatever she wants."

Chéri rolled her eyes. "Men like you love giving lectures to sisters and friends, but in front of their wives, they just wag their tails."

Evan scoffed. "Two cappuccinos," he ordered at the counter, completely ignoring her words.

Chéri grabbed her coffee just as Evan's phone rang.

He took out his mobile. "Oh, it's Mom." He took a sip of his coffee.

Chéri continued drinking hers, not paying much attention, until she heard Evan say, "Yeah, she's with me, Mom."

Her brows raised slightly as he glanced at her.

"Okay, we're coming in a while," he said before ending the call and shoving his phone back in his pocket.

Chéri tilted her head. "What happened?"

"Dinner's ready, and Mom is calling you."

She chuckled. "Not you?"

Evan rolled his eyes. "Don't start."

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[Yaroslov Villa]

Chloe Yaroslov, Evan's mother, poured more food onto Chéri’s already full plate.

"Auntie, it's enough!" Chéri laughed, reaching out to stop her.

"A few more bites won't affect your healthy physique, Chéri." Chloe patted her head...

"Mom, these are all Chéri's favorites. What about me?" Evan frowned. "Feels like I'm really your adoptive son and she's the heiress of this family."

Maven Yaroslov, Evan's father, chuckled as he placed a hand on Chéri’s head. "Well, I wouldn't mind making her my heiress."

Chéri smiled warmly, while Evan rolled his eyes.

This was the Yaroslov family....where she was always welcomed like one of their own.

Drake pulled up in front of Abigail Villa, the car rolling to a smooth stop. He turned to Iris with a small smile. "Here we are—home sweet home."

Iris let out a dry chuckle, her gaze lingering on the grand yet suffocating structure before her. "This isn't a home anymore, DD."

Drake studied her face for a moment before offering softly, "Wanna come over to my place instead? Mom would be happy to have you."

She shook her head. "It's fine. Besides, I can't keep running from this place." A sigh left her lips as she leaned back against the seat. "I just hope I get a break for at least a year."

Drake suddenly remembered something. "Oh yeah, did you get a response yet?"

"In a few days," she murmured, unbuckling her seatbelt.

"Don't worry. You're a topper with an excellent record. They'd be crazy not to choose you," Drake encouraged.

Iris nodded, but her expression remained distant. "Yeah, I hope so. Because this is my only way out of this hell. Otherwise, you know my dad…" She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "He won't let me go anywhere unless it's for studies."

Drake smirked, trying to lighten the mood. "There's another way too—get married and leave." He chuckled, playfully nudging her shoulder.

Iris rolled her eyes. "Oh, sure. Like my dad would ever let me marry whoever I want. He only makes decisions that either benefit him or align with whatever his wife says."

Drake shuddered. "Ugh, don't bring up that creepy woman. She gives me the chills."

Iris burst into laughter. "Aww, my little DD is still traumatized by my stepmom's ‘closeness’?"

Drake's jaw clenched. "If it weren't for you, I would've slapped that woman when she grabbed my hand." His scowl deepened at the memory.

Iris smirked. "That would've been the best scene ever."

Before Drake could retort, a voice interrupted them.

"Oh, hello, kids!"

Drake nearly jumped as Mamie, Iris's stepmother, suddenly bent down at his side of the window, her overly sweet smile sending an uneasy shiver down his spine.

"Hello, Mrs. Abigail…" He forced a polite smile while discreetly reaching for the window button.

Mamie placed a hand on the glass, stopping him. "Why the rush? Come inside!"

Drake swallowed hard. "Umm… no, no. I was just dropping Iris off. I was about to leave." His eyes flickered toward Iris in silent betrayal.

Iris stepped out of the car, crossing her arms. "Stop pestering him. Unless you want the watchman to see you drooling."

Mamie's expression darkened. "Mind your language! I am your mother!"

Iris tilted her head, a cold smirk curling on her lips. "Do you have trouble remembering things? Should I take you to a good doctor?" She stepped closer, voice dripping with mockery. "Because you keep forgetting that—you are NOT my mother. Keep that in mind."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and stormed inside the villa.

Mamie scoffed, crossing her arms in irritation. "Such an ill-mannered girl! By the way, Drake—"

But before she could finish, the sound of screeching tires filled the air as Drake sped away without a backward glance.

Mamie rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath as she turned back toward the house, her mood soured.

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