Chapter 260: The Final Guest

Chicago, Carly’s townhouse.

When Sam pulled up to the curb, warm light was spilling from the living room windows.

Thinking Carly had reconsidered and returned home, his mood lifted for the first time all day. Yet the moment he pushed through the front door, he found his parents making themselves comfortable on the sofa.

“Fresh cookies! Made them right over the camp burner, piping hot.”

“Delicious. This place is an absolute paradise, far better than being cooped up in the RV.”

Ron had just handed Judy a dessert plate when the sound of the front latch turning made them both look toward the hallway.

Their faces brightened the moment they spotted their son standing in the foyer.

“Sam! You’re back!”

“Dad? Mom? What are you two doing here?”

“What, aren’t you happy to see us?”

“Did we drop in unannounced and ruin date night for you and Carly?”

“That’s not what I meant…” The mention of Carly’s name made Sam’s face fall. “I mean… have you seen Carly come back here today?”

“No,” Judy replied, resting her plate on the coffee table. “Where is she anyway? We haven’t seen her all day. We assumed she was out with you.”

“Well, the truth is, we had an argument,” Sam mumbled, sinking into an armchair and rubbing his face with both hands. “We might have broken up. Or… we’re about to.”

Pfffft!

Judy spat a mouthful of beer straight across the rug. “What?! Sam, tell me you’re joking!”

She clearly couldn’t accept the news. “Listen to me: I don’t care about the petty details, you march out there and bring that girl home right now!”

Ron leaned forward, his face taking on a grave look. “Sam, I believe it’s time for an emergency family council.”

“A family council? Right now?”

“Yes, right now,” Judy took over, pointing a firm finger at him. “Sam, you probably don’t know this, but your father and I haven’t spent decades in pure, unblemished harmony.”

“Over the years, even I had moments where I thought… this marriage simply cannot go on another day…”

“Sam, pay no attention to her, she’s taking cheap shots at my expense.”

“Please,” Sam groaned, slumping deeper into the cushions. “Could you two just speed this along?”

“You can’t rush these conversations! We need you to realize that you just let the most incredible woman on the planet slip through your fingers!”

“Stop! Just stop, both of you! Enough!” Sam shouted, his temper flaring.

He was already exhausted from Sentinel Prime’s betrayal and Ironhide’s death, and his parents’ rapid-fire nagging pushed him right over the edge.

“She dumped me, fine! I’ll find someone better! I’m moving on, I’m happier this way!”

“Keep dreaming, kiddo! You’ve already lost two exceptional women; you are not pulling a third out of thin air unless you’ve got some massive hidden—”

“Mom! Good grief, what are you even saying?! I am not talking about this anymore!”

“Judy,” Ron tried to play mediator, waving his hands gently. “They just had a disagreement, it’s not like—”

“It wasn’t a disagreement, it was an all-out brawl!”

“Sam, you clearly fail to grasp the gravity of your situation,” Judy said, scrambling over to the low shelf to grab a paperback. “This is required reading for you. It’s called First Contact. There are some genuine gems in here; I dug it up for you at a flea market—”

“No, absolutely not. I am not reading that.”

“Rule of thumb, kid: when you argue with your mother, you are wrong by default,” Ron whispered with a knowing wink.

“Dad, what are you doing? Aren’t you supposed to have my back?”

“Of course I do,” Ron said, nodding toward his wife. “Happy wife, happy life. That’s the golden rule.”

“Exactly right,” Judy chimed in, settling back onto the cushion beside him.

“On the other hand,” Ron gave a small shrug, “an unhappy wife ensures the remainder of your natural years will be an absolute nightmare…”

“Ron! Stick to the point!” Judy smacked his shoulder, sensing the hidden jab.

“Right, back on track. As your father, Sam, there is only one question that truly matters: do you love her?”

Did Sam love Carly?

The answer required no deliberation. He loved her with everything he had.

Without an ounce of hesitation, Sam gave a firm, resolute nod, speaking from the depths of his heart:

“She’s the one. She’s my true match.”

“Then you do whatever it takes to win her back, no matter the cost!” Judy insisted, her voice absolute. “Whenever your father and I had a falling out back in the day, even if I ran to the ends of the earth, he moved mountains to track me down.”

She nudged Ron, who was grinning like an idiot beside her. “Tell him, Ron. Remind our son what you told me back then.”

“Alright,” Ron cleared his throat, reciting the line he had repeated a thousand times:

“Come what may, I will walk by your side until the stars go cold.”

Ron let out a soft chuckle. “Sounds like something from an old romantic flick, doesn’t it? A bit cheesy?”

Sam slowly shook his head, the frustration draining from his face as a quiet realization took hold.

He looked at his parents sitting shoulder to shoulder, the warmth between them undeniable, and suddenly shot to his feet. “Dad, Mom, what day is it today?”

“Saturday. Why?”

“Saturday… she has to be there…” Sam muttered to himself, grabbing his phone from the counter and bolting toward the front door.

Just as his hand caught the handle, he paused, turning back with a look of dead seriousness:

“Listen to me carefully: I need you two to pack your bags and get out of Chicago. Right now. Drive as far away from this city as you can!”

“Do you hear me?”

“And… I love you both.”

The Chicago Space and Science Museum.

Tonight, the grand museum grounds were hosting a major milestone gala.

It served as both a decennial celebration of the institution’s founding and an exclusive high-society gathering.

Every guest walking through the revolving doors was either an executive trustee or an invited dignitary. Chicago’s financial elite and political heavyweights filled the rooms, dressed in tailored tuxedos and evening gowns, with rows of exotic sports cars and limousines lining the plaza outside.

Even if shady backroom deals were traded behind closed doors, the outward veneer had to remain pristine.

As the evening began to wind down, a rusted, weathered sedan rattled down the boulevard, coming to a stop near the edge of the courtyard.

It looked completely out of place among the luxury fleet.

Click.

Sam pushed the dented door open, stepping out into the cool evening air. He stared up at the museum’s towering glass facade, which blazed with golden light against the midnight sky.

This battered machine was Sam’s current ride, a surplus vehicle handed over by military logistics as compensation for his wrecked Camaro.

If Lennox hadn’t personally pulled strings with the regional motor pool, Sam wouldn’t have walked away with a single bolt, let alone a functional set of wheels older than he was.

Military bureaucracy wasn’t known for its generosity. If a civilian car blocked a convoy, they pushed it into the ditch; demanding replacement funds usually earned an escort off the property in zip-ties.

“Sam?”

While Sam stood on the pavement debating how to slip past the security detail, a hesitant voice called out from behind him.

He turned toward the curb to find Brazos walking toward him.

“Sam, it really is you.”

A warm look of recognition crossed the older man’s face.

As the managing director of corporate accounting at Accuretta, Brazos had naturally secured an invitation to an event of this caliber, even if his firm was only mingling on the outer fringes of the elite circle.

He was mostly working the perimeter to scout potential corporate sponsors, or at least pass out business cards to prospective clients.

“Sam, what brings you to a gala like this?” Brazos asked, adjusting his lapels.

“Mr. Brazos, I’m trying to find my girlfriend, Carly.”

Sam answered without thinking, though he regretted it the moment the words left his mouth.

Brazos’s expression shifted in real time.

Puzzlement flashed across his face, followed by sudden realization, and finally settled into a look of quiet, awkward sympathy.

The executive recalled seeing the museum’s primary benefactor earlier that evening, and a very familiar, striking young woman had been standing close by his side near the VIP terrace.

With his vision blurred from long office hours, Brazos hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Now, looking at Sam, the pieces came together uncomfortably well.

“Son,” Brazos paused, resting a heavy, sympathetic hand on Sam’s shoulder before sliding a metallic VIP pass from his breast pocket.

“Take this. It’s the only real help I can give you tonight; it’ll get you past the lobby scanners.”

“And Sam… have you ever heard that old saying about plenty of fish in the sea?”

“What about it?”

“Keep it in mind, son.”

Brazos gave Sam’s head an odd, lingering look, patted him on the back, and turned toward the valet circle where his town car was idling.

Up on the museum’s third floor, an expansive gallery had been converted into an opulent banquet hall.

Waiters in tailored black tailcoats and bow ties glided across the polished marble floor, carrying silver trays lined with crystal champagne flutes.

Although the formal program was drawing to a close, a substantial crowd lingered along the mezzanine, showing no signs of leaving.

In a quiet lounge area near the glass balcony, Dylan Gould pulled up a chair opposite Carly.

“Carly, the evening was a triumph. You handled everything brilliantly.”

With the public proceedings wrapped up, Dylan finally had a free moment to chat.

Carly looked preoccupied, her gaze distant, but she managed a polite smile as her employer sat down.

“Thank you, Mr. Gould. I was just doing what my position requires.”

“Not at all. Keeping the curation running smoothly is your routine role; coordinating this entire gala on short notice was overtime.”

Dylan smiled smoothly, taking a sip from his glass. “I will ensure your supplementary bonus reflects the effort.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gould.”

The financial relief brought a radiant smile to Carly’s face.

Tonight, Carly was dressed to impress.

Her royal blue evening gown traced her silhouette with effortless grace, its off-the-shoulder cut revealing smooth shoulders framed by cascading honey-blonde curls.

Delicate diamond pendants caught the chandelier light with every movement, complementing her striking red lipstick and warm, expressive eyes.

Even Dylan, an experienced player in elite social circles, found himself momentarily captivated by her presence.

Regaining his composure, he cast a casual glance across the surrounding tables, as if checking the room.

“Carly, where is Sam? Didn’t he join you?”

“Well…” Carly hesitated, slightly embarrassed to admit her partner had stood them up. “I’m sorry, Dylan. Sam couldn’t make it tonight.”

“He didn’t come?” A flash of quiet disappointment crossed Dylan’s eyes, though he masked it behind a suave laugh. “He’s certainly a bold man.”

“If you were my partner, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight for a second. You have no idea how captivating you look this evening…”

“Which is why I showed up!”

A firm, sharp voice cut through Dylan’s flattery.

Footsteps echoed across the marble as Sam strode into the lounge area.

“Sam?” Dylan remained seated, raising an open hand in greeting. “Welcome. Please, take a seat.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass. We’re leaving right now.”

Sam gave Dylan a cold, guarded stare before turning his attention to Carly. “Funny, isn’t it? The whole drive over, I kept wondering if you’d actually show up here. Turns out you were here all along.”

“Maybe I should have come straight back to Chicago earlier. Can we step outside? I need to talk to you.”

“Sam, at least let me get you a drink,” Dylan offered, signaling a passing waiter with a snap of his fingers. “Everything at the bar is top-shelf, on the house.”

“Right,” Sam let out a dry, humorless chuckle, his tone hardening. “You know something? I had no intention of walking into this room.”

“I don’t need a drink from you. I just want to speak with my girlfriend. In private.”

He put heavy emphasis on the word girlfriend.

“Any objections, Mr. Gould?”

“Mr. Gould,” Carly said, stepping between them to defuse the growing tension. “Excuse us for a moment. I’ll step out with Sam.”

Though Carly had accepted intelligence tasks from foreign channels, her training was far from comprehensive. She carried no expertise in high-level tradecraft, hand-to-hand combat, or system hacking.

Her primary asset had always been her composure and her ability to navigate elite social circles without drawing suspicion.

Taking Sam’s hand, she moved briskly toward the corridor elevators.

“Sam, what is going on?”

“I’ll explain everything once we’re outside.”

Behind them, Dylan watched their retreating silhouettes, his eyes narrowing. Raising his left wrist, he murmured a brief command into the small microphone embedded within his watch face, then rose to follow them down the hall.

Riding the service lift to the ground floor, Dylan caught up to Sam and Carly just as they reached the grand rotunda near the exit.

“Sam, if something is troubling you, talk to me. I have resources; perhaps I can offer a solution.”

Dylan unbuttoned his collar as he walked, flanked by several broad-shouldered men in dark suits who had emerged quietly from the side corridors.

“I remember talking with my father when I was just a boy, discussing how a man chooses his path in this world…”

“Now really isn’t the time. We have private matters to settle,” Sam called back without turning, gripping Carly’s hand tighter as he lengthened his stride.

An uneasy knot tightened in his gut, screaming that something was fundamentally wrong with this picture.

“That goes all the way back to the firm my father built from the ground up,” Dylan continued smoothly, paying no heed to Sam’s brush-off.

“I mentioned before that he ran the largest accounting practice in the country. Back when it was still a modest agency, he landed a massive public account.”

“A historic account!”

“He oversaw the audit books and budget reconciliations for NASA’s lunar expeditions. One of his primary line items was the financial sign-off on the second lunar survey.”

“The most important lesson he passed down to me was this: when a conflict has nothing to do with you, but you still want the lion’s share of the spoils… you align yourself with the side destined to win.”

Sam froze in his tracks.

He turned slowly, staring at the cold, calculating look in Dylan’s eyes—a visage that suddenly felt completely foreign.

A chill ran down Sam’s spine. Without a word, he grabbed Carly’s arm and sprinted toward the glass doors:

Run!

“Was I too forward? Or do I simply lack charm?” Dylan asked, tilting his head with an easy smirk.

“The fault certainly doesn’t lie with you, sir,” an aide murmured beside him.

Dylan didn’t bother giving chase. He strolled toward the exit with hands casually tucked into his pockets.

Out on the courtyard pavement, Sam bypassed his rusted sedan, steering Carly straight toward the silver Mercedes SLS Dylan had gifted her.

SLAM.

“Get in! We need to clear this block right now!”

Slamming the door, Sam jammed the key into the ignition, stepping on the pedal.

The engine didn’t roar. The wheels remained locked, and the steering column suddenly began spinning on its own, clicking through internal gear shifts.

Clank!

The sleek luxury chassis broke apart, the mechanical panels rising and locking into place as the car shifted forms in the blink of an eye.

Sam and Carly were violently tossed from the cabin, tumbling across the stone pavers.

Thud!

“Sam! What is that thing?!”

“It’s a Decepticon!”

Towering six meters above them, a silver mechanical warrior stood in the center of the driveway, its twin crimson optics glaring down with predatory malice.

Sam and Carly sat frozen on the ground, pale with terror. Carly’s heels had come off during the fall, stripping away every trace of the gala’s earlier elegance.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Dylan’s voice projected across the plaza.

He had walked out onto the grand terrace overlooking the courtyard, flanked by dozens of wealthy guests who had followed him outside.

Strangely, none of these high-society figures showed the slightest panic at the sight of a living alien machine standing twenty feet away.

Instead, they leaned against the marble balustrades with drinks in hand, pointing down at the scene with detached curiosity and amused smiles.

They were in on the arrangement. Through Dylan, these corporate elites had long since secured backchannel ties with the alien faction.

They were the inner circle pulling the strings behind Gould’s operations.

Whenever the board shifted, there were always opportunists who believed they could wager on the winning faction and claim a seat at the table. They never realized that pawns who fancied themselves grandmasters were always the first to be swept off the board.

“And now!” Dylan descended the marble steps with outstretched arms, his voice brimming with theatrical fervor. “Allow me to introduce the guest of honor for this evening, our most distinguished patron!”

“Behold—Lord Skygnaw of the Decepticons!”

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