Zephyr's pulse raced in his ears, eyes fixed on Anthony's uncle who stood firm with clenched jaws. In the front line of the crowd Drago was staring too, his face half hidden in the shadows.
This was no coincidence. It was planned. Anthony's uncle was working with the man. Zephyr felt it strongly. The intuition clawed in his chest, churning in his stomach.
Under the heavy weight of the moment, crunching sounds broke through the air. It was Jason and the other two young men who were asked to chase after the man who tried to kill Anthony. They all rushed in, panting.
“Zephyr,” Jason's breath was heavy. He leaned both hands on his knees and lifted a glance to Zephyr's face. “We lost him,” he said. “We tried to catch the man, but he was fast.” He sucked in a quick breath then stood upright.
