Chapter 105 Back To The Safehouse

• The bass thumped through the walls of Don’s exclusive club, but in the VIP lounge, the sound was little more than a muted pulse, drowned beneath low laughter and the clinking of expensive glasses. Velvet couches curved along the room, dim lights washing everything in a decadent red glow.
• Horace lounged back in his seat, his shirt collar open, a woman draped over each arm, their nails tracing lazy patterns along his chest and shoulders. Across from him, Don, thick gold chains gleaming in the low light, tipped back his head and exhaled a heavy plume of smoke, his grin as wide as the room.
• On the glass table between them lay the “wonderful product”, carefully cut lines, half-finished drinks, and scattered bills like fallen leaves. Both men leaned forward in turn, inhaling sharply, before falling back into their indulgent thrones.