General Sinn sat in the back of the car, eyes fixed on the towering CGI building through the tinted glass. The engine was off. Mercury gripped the wheel loosely, working a piece of gum slowly between her teeth, the faint minty snap the only sound inside the vehicle.
They were tucked deep into shadow where the streetlights couldn't reach. Around them, hidden in darkened doorways and behind parked vehicles, his men held their positions like ghosts—barely breathing, barely blinking.
Nothing moved inside the building. Not a shadow. Not a silhouette. The windows stared back like blank, lifeless eyes.
"Abram's handling it," Sinn said quietly, voice low and steady.
"You sure?" Mercury asked, jaw shifting as she chewed.
"I know him." Sinn's gaze never left the building. "He'll find a way to reach Bala, and when he does, he'll call. He's not so different from me."
