Gabriel
The morning sun barely cut through the heavy fog surrounding the estate grounds. Down in the sub-level armory, the scent of gun oil, cold steel, and black coffee filled the air.
Luca tossed a printed surveillance still onto the metal workbench. It was the same photo Azeelia had received on her phone—her standing outside The Obsidian Lounge, captured through a high-powered telephoto lens.
"Angle of the shot puts the shooter on the roof of the bank across the street," Luca said, adjusting the slide on his Glock. "Professional work. They tracked her the minute she stepped out of a cab, but they didn't try to take her until she went home."
"They don't want her dead yet," I said, leaning against the workbench with my arms crossed over my chest. "If they wanted her dead, they would h
