More than two hundred and fifty miles away, Michael remained where he was. The old man's final words continued echoing in his ears.
"Michael Norman, I hope our next meeting will be more peaceful."
"…"
His first reaction wasn't relief but suspicion.
A trap?
His eyes narrowed as he carefully observed his surroundings. After everything that had happened, he found it difficult to simply trust anyone from the Federation.
Over the past year, every interaction he had experienced with them had taught him one thing. Their morals were questionable. Not because they were necessarily evil. Michael couldn't entirely blame them. But understanding their reasoning didn't mean he trusted them.
The old man's words might genuinely be a gesture of goodwill. Or he might simply be trying to lure Michael out of hiding.
After all, the Federation Demigod had already witnessed his astonishing escape method. He could also very well be pretending to leave while watching closely.
