Full Throttle Saloon Cast の小説・ストーリー

My earpiece buzzed again: "Mara, flank positions—drones up, scent trackers active. If they breach, go for knees and throats." Emerging into the courtyard, the rain had eased to a relentless drizzle, turning the gravel to slick mud that squelched under my boots. Floodlights pierced the gloom, illuminating the wrought-iron gates like a stage for judgment. Thorne's convoy idled there, engines rumbling like distant thunder, black SUVs gleaming wetly. Figures shifted in the shadows—ten, maybe twelve armed goons, rifles slung but fingers itching on triggers. Thorne stepped out from the lead vehicle, an umbrella held by a burly lackey shielding his grizzled head, his face a mask of false righteousn

We slid into the Bugatti, and soon enough, Thorne was behind the wheel, driving like he owned the road. "Who was that guy? Is he one of your dad’s servants?" "His name’s Kael. He’s a beta and would be my second-in-command after I become the Alpha," he replied, his eyes fixed on the road. "Oh," I uttered, nodding my head. "I didn't know you knew how to drive a car." Thorne looked over to me and smirked slightly. "I got lots of these at home. Why wouldn't I know how to drive?" he replied, his hands turning the steering wheel to the left as he made a U-turn.

He whispered with a smirk as they moved through the double doors. “ The man of the hour, Caelan Thorne!” A voice hollered the minute they stepped through, and Caelan sucked in a sharp breath that was only audible to Reena before his lips twisted into a sharp grin, and he threw back his head in an answering laugh that caused his midnight hair to fall over his forehead, and his silver eyes to sparkle. “Mr Romano.” He laughed, as the faux announcer shifted closer, and Reena blinked twice in surprise; the only acceptable expression of surprise from an agent.

The heavy dressing room door clicked open. Jaxson walked in, flanked by two studio producers who were nervously explaining the microphone setup. The captain looked staggering in a crisp navy suit that perfectly framed his massive shoulders. He had cleaned up his stubble, his dark hair was neatly styled, but his eyes were completely bloodshot and devoid of life. He looked like a machine that had been programmed to look like a hockey star. "Thorne, over here," Sarah ordered, waving him toward the couch next to Chloe. "We're going over the script for the third segment."

Outside, the winter air bit against her skin as a chauffeur opened the rear door of the waiting Rolls-Royce. Marcus Vale stood nearby. "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Ravenhart," Marcus said respectfully as he bowed his head. "Thank you, Marcus," Thalia replied politely. Nikolai acknowledged Marcus with a brief nod before sliding into the car. Thalia gathered the skirt of her wedding gown and entered after him. The chauffeur gently closed the door. Within seconds, the Rolls-Royce pulled away from the ancestral estate. Neither of them spoke. The only sound came from the tires gliding across the snow-covered road.

Matteo groaned and winced before shifting back into his normal form with his head against his seat. A crooked smile twisted Thomas’s mouth. “Shut your mouths, all of you. I’m driving now, and you are coming with me," he said in a cold voice. He put on his seat belt and turned off the air conditioner. He reversed the car and drove out of the garage, driving through the open gate of the villa and down the mountains. He drove like a maniac, ignoring the speed limit and the traffic.

“Ohhh this is luxury. I’m naming her Sabrina.” “No naming the car,” Elena called out. “SABRINA IT IS.” Hale sighed and started the engine. They pulled out of the driveway. Employees in the lobby pressed closer to the windows. “Look... Mr. Thorne opened the door for her.” “He NEVER opens doors.” “And he’s smiling again!” “Should we call HR? I think this is illegal.” “THEY LOOK LIKE A REAL COUPLE...” Roman glanced toward the glass. More whispers. More stares.

The rain had slowed to a miserable drizzle by the time the SUV pulled up to the main gates of the Silverstone estate. The iron gates, usually a symbol of strength, were twisted and scorched from the explosions. On the grand terrace, the Thorne family stood like statues. Former Alpha Vincent, Hilda, and the Grand Matriarch Maricar were all there, their eyes fixed on the mud-splattered car. Travis sat in the driver's seat for a long moment, his hands still gripping the steering wheel so hard the leather groaned. His knuckles were white, and his face was a mask of dried blood and soot. He didn't look at Aubrey. He couldn't.

Richard leaned in at one point, whispering, “This is what I want for us, Isa. Family. Real family.” The evening stretches out as a beautiful one till we hear a smooth wheel noise from the gate entrance. We all turned to see a sleek black luxury car pull up. The driver stepped out and began unloading several designer suitcases from the trunk. Salvatore emerged first from the backseat, tall and commanding in a black shirt, his expression unreadable. He extended a hand and helped a woman out after him—elegant, poised, with sharp features and dark hair swept into a flawless chignon.

Thomas watched the two women disappear through the revolving doors, then handed Anathea's car keys to the valet. "These are your keys, sir," the valet said, handing another set of keys to Thomas just as a Porsche Cayenne pulled up beside Thomas. Taking the keys, Thomas opened the car door and slid behind the wheel. He stepped on the gas and sped off. … "Slow down, Nat…" Lena wasn't strong enough to hold a flask in one hand and keep Anathea upright with the other after all. It didn't help that Anathea was so drunk that she could barely keep her eyes open.