Some time passed.
By the time Don found himself nearing the residential stretch Winter had flagged, the city had thinned into something quieter—and more expensive.
The road wound through low hills that rose gently from the an urban sprawl, giving glimpses of the coastline without ever quite reaching it.
Villas dotted the slopes in loose clusters, one- and two-story homes built wide rather than tall, all glass fronts and open balconies meant to drink in the view. White stone, dark wood, clean concrete. Tasteful.
There were few gates.
No guards posted at corners. No checkpoints. Just a narrow road, trimmed hedges, and driveways that opened directly onto the street like nothing here had anything to hide.
A few houses were dark. Others glowed softly from within.
And a handful were very much awake.
