Chapter 108 Aftermath

• The ride back to Horace’s mansion was silent, heavy with the scent of gunpowder and smoke still clinging to their clothes. The city passed in streaks of neon and shadow, but none of them spoke; each man lost in the echo of the ambush.
• By the time they rolled through the iron gates of the estate, dusk was waking up. Guards at the entrance straightened at once, their eyes widening slightly at the sight of the assassins stepping out, battered but unbroken.
• Inside the mansion, Horace was already waiting in the grand hall, a tumbler of whiskey in hand. The faint smile on his lips said he had been expecting them.