Chapter 5 - THE BLUE HONDA
Aurora slowly raised her head, her brown eyes locking onto Owen’s pale face with a mixture of confusion and sudden, icy dread.
Owen didn't look at her eyes. His gaze remained fixated on a specific, thin crescent-shaped scar resting just two inches above her right knee—a mark completely separate from the surgical amputations below.
"The blue Honda," Owen whispered, his voice trembling—a tone no person in Chicago had ever heard from the syndicate boss.
Aurora’s breath caught in her throat. Her blood ran cold. The accident from three years ago had been ruled a hit-and-run on a deserted stretch of icy highway outside Illinois State Route 41. The police reports had been vague, the driver never found, and her vehicle completely crushed into a twisted wreck of steel.
"How do you know what car I was driving?" Aurora asked, her voice dropping into a sharp, terrified whip.
Owen didn't answer. He took a slow, agonizing step forward, his eyes glued to that crescent scar. His fingers twitched as if he wanted to reach out and touch the skin, but he pulled his hand back, swallowing hard.
"It was snowing," Owen murmured, almost to himself, his voice hollow. "The ice on the bridge... the impact pushed the engine block straight through the firewall."
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Aurora snapped her head up, her eyes wide with mounting terror as she stared at the man who owned the mansion she cleaned every night.
"How do you know that?" she demanded, her voice rising in panic. "The police records never published the firewall collapse! Who are you?"
