Chapter 3 - The Motorcade
The rain had turned into a steady, freezing mist by the time Ethan’s three black Cadillac Escalades pulled away from the Magnolia driveway.
Inside the middle vehicle, the leather interior was quiet except for the low hum of the climate control and the steady chatter of secure tactical radio traffic coming from the front seat where Mason monitored the city’s grid.
“All units, verify positioning,” Mason spoke into a small mic clipped to his lapel.
“Alpha lead, in position,” a gruff voice crackled back.
“Beta flank, clear.”
Lily pressed her nose against the tinted window, watching the glittering lights of downtown Seattle blur past in the rain. “Are those real security guards, or are they actors like in the movies?”
“Real guards, sweetheart,” Ethan said, resting his hand over hers. “Most of them spent ten years protecting diplomats in places you never want to read about in a geography book.”
“Do they have walkie-talkies that go ksshh?”
“The best money can buy.”
As the motorcade crossed over the Alaskan Way Viaduct and turned toward the brand-new Holloway Crest Tower, the scale of the building became apparent. Rising seventy stories into the night sky, the skyscraper was a monolith of glass and steel, its exterior illuminated by thousands of programmable LED strips pulsing with the corporate logo: a silver crown resting over an H.
Outside the grand entrance, a red carpet stretched across the wide marble plaza, shielded from the rain by a massive white marquee. Luxury cars—Bentleys, Rolls-Royces, and custom Maybachs—were backed up halfway down the block as valets scurried through the cold mist in matching black trench coats.
“Look at all those fancy cars,” Lily whispered.
“Just cars, Lily,” Ethan said softly.
The motorcade didn't join the queue. Instead, the lead Escalade simply bypassed the line of luxury vehicles, its high-intensity strobe lights flashing quietly in the grill. The valet attendants stared in shock as three massive SUVs pulled directly up to the red carpet, blocking the entrance for a twenty-million-dollar Bugatti Chiron behind them.
The driver’s side door of Ethan’s vehicle opened, and a towering man in a tailored black overcoat stepped out into the rain, holding a massive black umbrella. He pulled open the rear passenger door with crisp, military precision.
Ethan stepped out first, adjusting the cuffs of his bespoke tuxedo, his posture calm and unreadable. Then he turned and offered his hand to Lily, helping her down onto the red carpet.
The paparazzi clustered behind the velvet ropes instantly snapped their camera shutters into a frenzy. Flashbulbs strobed like lightning in the mist.
“Who is that?” a reporter shouted from behind the barricades.
“Is that a senator?” another yelled.
Ethan didn't blink. He kept his hand firmly on Lily’s shoulder as Mason and two other guards formed a protective wedge around them, parting the crowd of startled attendees and media personnel with quiet, absolute authority.
They didn't wait in line. They didn't show tickets.
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The private security guards stationed at the main doors saw Ethan’s calm, unbothered expression, took in the three tactical SUVs idling behind him, and instinctively stepped aside, holding the massive glass doors open without asking a single question.
Ethan Cole had returned to Holloway Crest. And he hadn't come through the back door.
