Chapter 41 Dead End

• Luca
• The bar was alive with chaos—a symphony of drunken laughter, the rhythmic pounding of bass-heavy music, and the clink of glasses being slammed on tabletops. I slipped through the crowd with purpose, my eyes scanning the dimly lit room for the man who had made the mistake of threatening me.
• Gerald Arnold. A name that now tasted bitter on my tongue. He was a man in his late fifties but carried himself with the energy of someone far younger. His tailored suit did little to hide the predatory glint in his eyes as he casually sipped from a glass of whiskey at the far end of the room.