A few hours later
7:32 p.m.
Alexander has been driving on the highway for a few hours. Neither of us speaks. He’s focused on the road, and I’m lost in my thoughts.
He didn’t tell me where we’re going, and I didn’t dare ask. It’s better not to talk to him.
I touch my holsters strapped to each of my thighs, which keep my weapons within reach in case of need.
He parks in a place that seems rarely frequented. He opens his door and gets out of the car. We walk side by side, the streets are calm.
We’re in an uninhabited neighborhood. The silence reigning here is mind-blowing and almost unsettling.
Alexander stops in front of a small black house, a bit secluded, with a garden in front. It’s simple but beautiful. It has several floors.
I look at the front door, which seems to have been for
