The safe-house was too quiet.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet that comes with night, but the heavy, suffocating silence that pressed against the walls, waiting to break. The lights were out, the air still. Aria sat stiffly by the window, staring at her faint reflection in the black glass. Her chest rose and fell too fast, every breath uneven, shaky.
"Stay close," Lorenzo's voice cut through the dark. It was steady, firm, almost too calm. His pistol gleamed faintly as he flicked the safety off, every muscle in his body coiled and alert. His men moved like shadows, checking corners, whispering codes into their earpieces, scanning doors.
But outside, there was nothing. No voices. No footsteps. Not even the distant hum of traffic.
And that was the problem.
"They cut the power," one of the guards muttered after checking the generator. "Backup's down too. No accident."
Lorenzo's jaw tightened. "Which means they want us blind."
