Stan slid into the Huracán, started the engine, and pulled out of the parking structure with the unhurried rhythm. Despite the value of the destination, Stan had no desire to feel rushed reaching it.
The drive through Velaris City moved in stages. The dense executive district where the meeting had been held gave way to commercial streets, then to a transitional zone of mixed development, and finally to the quieter residential quarters of the northeastern part of the city.
The further he drove, the smaller the buildings became, until the corporate towers were a memory in the rearview mirror and the streets carried the lived-in, ordinary quality of neighborhoods where actual people made actual homes.
His phone buzzed on the passenger seat at a red light.
He glanced at it.
Sis Sacha: [I've already called them. They know you're on your way.]
Stan exhaled slowly through his nose.
