Ethan kept staring at the message on his phone, his jaw tightening. A football game tonight. He hadn't even realized it was scheduled. "Damn it,"
he thought, running a hand through his hair. His body was still battered from the accident, muscles sore, and every movement reminded him of how close he'd come to death.
If not for the king cobra power he would have been dead by now.
But the real problem wasn't his injuries. If he showed up at the game, word would spread like wildfire that he was alive.
It wouldn't take long for the assassin to hear about it and come back for him.
Not that Ethan feared them—he didn't. But the thought of more innocent people getting caught in the crossfire, like the taxi driver, made his stomach twist.
At that moment his thumb hovered over the message for a moment before he let out a quiet sigh.
