Chapter 66 How Do You Not Fall For That?

• The apartment was too quiet.
• Alistair Martins stood at the window, the skyline stretching beyond his reflection, the city alive in a way that mocked his stillness. He hadn't turned on the lights. Let the dusk bleed in. Let it settle over the floor and his thoughts alike.
• There was a half-empty glass of scotch on the table. Same one he poured forty minutes ago. Maybe longer. He hadn’t touched it since.