The black sedan glided through the streets of Barcelona, the city lights blurring into long, jagged streaks of neon against the window. Inside the car, the silence was heavy, broken only by the low hum of the engine. I leaned my head against the cool leather seat, the world still tilting in nauseating intervals.
I pulled my phone from my pocket again. I scrolled past Noah's name and dialed Reid.
Reid answered on the first ring, his voice crisp and devoid of emotion. "Mr. Wolfe."
"Give me an update," I rasped, my voice sounding like gravel. "What do we have on the Vincenti family's recent movements? Specifically their underground operations in the Mediterranean."
"I'm still digging, sir," Reid replied. "They've been quiet since the transition, but there's a lot of chatter in the lower tiers. Movement of assets, specialized equipment. I should have a full profile by weekend."
