CHAPTER HUNDRED & THIRTY SIX

Jovian's search could barely be called a search. Not in the real sense of it.

The scene of the wreckage was practically waiting for him in the middle of the highway, on the path back to the Johns' mansion.

When he arrived at the scene, the police were already there, dressed from head to toe in their black uniforms, their little guns poking out of their holsters.

In their matching outfits, they always looked ridiculous to Jovian. Undertrained. Undisciplined. Un-everything. All they were to do too often was how to look sharp in a uniform.

Jovian got out of the car and approached the scene. From what he could see, Reynolds had given whoever came after him hell.

This did not surprise him. Not even a little bit. The man had almost beat him in hand to hand combat, a thing he previously thought improbable. Call him arrogant, but he knew how proficient he was. He knew because he had spent years honing his body into the perfect weapon. But in mere seconds, Reynolds put years of training to
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