CHAPTER 487: THOMAS JUNIOR IS MISSING

"Mr. Thomas" The driver groaned through gritted teeth.

But Thomas, his vision swimming, couldn’t respond.

His mind had gone blank.

Beside him, the bloodied model slumped unconscious, her face a mask of crimson.

The bodyguard struggled as well, trying to get out of the car, but found himself completely immobilized.

Before they could even catch their breath, seven or eight men in sleek combat gear emerged from the three vehicles ahead and strode toward them.

"Who—who the hell are you people...?"

Thomas squinted through the blood dripping into his eyes, his voice weak and slurred.

The men didn’t answer.

They didn’t even acknowledge him.

A chill shot down Thomas’s spine.

"Do you—do you even know who I am?

I’m Thomas—"

The Thomas family name was his shield, the reason he could strut through Luwei City—no, the entire province—with impunity.

"Thomas?"

Hearing his own name from one of the men, Thomas stiffened, his eyes widening in shock.

Damn it!

These guys were really here for him?!

"Looks like we’ve got the right man," A cold smirk curled on the lips of a strikingly handsome face.

"Take them all."

"Understood!"

The men behind him immediately stepped forward, yanking open the car doors and dragging out the four people inside—including Thomas.

Thomas, overwhelmed by pain and terror, blacked out on the spot.

No one paid him any mind.

They simply tossed him into an off-road RV before retrieving the dashcam and dousing the car with gasoline.

The already smoking vehicle erupted into flames in an instant.

The men quickly piled into their own car and sped away.

Moments later—

**BOOM!**

The deafening explosion tore through the silent surroundings, jarring and horrifying.

Though Country E was famously vast and sparsely populated, with few residents in the vicinity, the sheer magnitude of the blast still drew attention.

Duty officers rushed to the scene upon receiving reports, scrambling to contain the fire.

Before investigators could even pull up the details of the wrecked vehicle, the Thomas family arrived—and promptly took control of the scene.

The bodyguards had already sent out a distress call before the accident.

Thomas had just pinpointed Thomas’s location when the explosion ripped through the air, cutting off any further communication.

Realizing the gravity of the situation, the report was immediately escalated.

A middle-aged man with a sinister expression leaned heavily on his cane, his knuckles white with tension.

His hoarse voice cut through the air as he stared at the charred remains of the recently extinguished vehicle not far away.

"Are you certain?"

This was none other than Thomas, the patriarch of the Thomas family—and father to Thomas.

Behind him stood a wiry, tattoo-covered man in martial attire, his face grim as he nodded.

"Confirmed.

It’s Thomas Junior’s car."

The man met Grandpa Thomas’s gaze and added, "But there was no one inside when it exploded."

Thomas wasn’t dead—or at least, not yet.

A small mercy in this disaster.

Grandpa Thomas let out a cold snort, his lips twisting into a chilling sneer.

The air around him thickened with barely restrained fury.

"Call the regional supervisor.

I want every surveillance feed from this area within ten minutes."

His voice dropped lower, veins bulging on the back of his hand as his grip threatened to splinter the cane.

"Track every suspicious person and vehicle. Let’s see who dares lay a finger on my son!"

By the end, his words were laced with venom, each syllable dripping with menace.

The Thomas family had risen from the underworld.

While their economic and industrial influence might not rank among the top in Country E, when it came to underground power and ruthlessness, even the three major families hesitated to cross them lightly.

A middle-aged man, wiry and covered in tattoos, nodded with a vicious expression.

"Yes, sir!

I’ll get right on it!"

"Wait."

Grandpa Thomas’s voice was icy as he halted his subordinate.

His words came slow and deliberate.

"Suppress everything that happened here tonight.

No leaks."

Tomorrow, the royal family was hosting a charity gala, and Thomas family would be in attendance.

Now was not the time for complications.

The tattooed man’s face twisted in understanding.

"Understood.

I’ll make sure it’s handled."

Grandpa Thomas said nothing more, turning toward his car.

His slightly limping figure, swallowed by the night, exuded menace.

Despite the Thomas efforts to contain the incident, their movements were too conspicuous to go entirely unnoticed—especially by those who had their eyes fixed on them.

Harrison received the message without a trace of irritation at being awakened.

"Thomas’s in trouble?"

Clutching his phone, he stepped out onto the balcony, letting the cold night air wash over him.

His chiseled features, outlined by the darkness, took on an inscrutable, shadowed intensity.

"I didn’t expect that man to move faster than I anticipated."

At the very least, he had assumed Thomas would make the first move.

But this was just as well.

The more reckless the provocation Thomas family were no pushover.

Amid the heavy silence, the man on the other end of the line spoke up cautiously.

"President Harrison, what should we do now?"

"Thomas is my friend.

Of course, I’ll step in to help now that he’s in trouble."

Harrison narrowed his eyes, a faint smirk playing on his lips, his tone laced with hidden meaning.

"Spread the word.

Make sure Thomas family’s investigation points toward that Luther bastard."

Whether the two dogs tore into each other or one crushed the other, it made no difference to him—or to the Harrison family.

Only gains, no losses.

"Understood!"

The man on the phone grasped his meaning instantly and responded without hesitation.

"I’ll arrange it right away."

The call ended, but Harrison didn’t return to his room to rest.

Instead, he lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and exhaled slowly.

The pale smoke dissipated into the night, as if it had never existed.

*Sinclair, do you really think this place is your playground in San Francisco, where you can do whatever you please?*

*Your arrogance will be your downfall—you won’t even see it coming.*

*If you don’t believe me, just wait and see.*

A faint smirk curled at the corner of his lips, betraying his satisfaction.

Finishing the cigarette, he pulled out his phone and dialed another number.

"Get the boys together.

Same spot as usual," he said, his tone casual yet leaving no room for negotiation.

"Everyone except Thomas.

My treat."

"Got it, I’ll reach out right now."

The groggy man on the other end had been rudely pulled from his sweet dreams, irritation flashing across his face—until he recognized Harrison’s voice.

His annoyance instantly melted into compliance, not even bothering to ask why Thomas was excluded.

"Shit, does he think we’re his damn lackeys, at his beck and call?"

After hanging up the phone, he finally dared to mutter a curse under his breath.

Rising from the bed, he dressed quickly and made calls to several other men.

Though no one knew what Harrison wanted in the dead of night, none dared to defy his orders.

One by one, they set out, heading toward the agreed-upon location.

Meanwhile, Harrison had also finished dressing.

His expression was dark as he stepped out, his eyes glinting with a sinister amusement.

Thomas’s matter couldn’t be linked to him in any way.

The night in the City appeared no different from any other.

But only a select few knew the storm that was truly brewing. ——

Dawn gradually broke. Camilla’s long, thick lashes fluttered before her eyes opened, revealing the man’s face—so flawlessly sculpted it seemed carved by the gods themselves.

She didn’t dare move, her gaze lingering with quiet adoration.

As she watched, warmth and contentment slowly filled her heart, and the corners of her lips curled upward without her realizing it.

Just then, the man’s eyes snapped open without warning.

Dark and alert, they showed no trace of drowsiness.

Camilla marveled at her husband’s keen awareness, her arched brows lifting slightly in surprise.