I told him about the warehouse on the eastern docks.
About the men on the catwalks who never pointed a gun at us, and how that had somehow been worse.
About Draco Draven, silver at the temples and perfectly calm, pouring tea he knew none of us would drink. I told him about the two shipments, the gold, the price that was so fair it made my skin crawl.
I told him Marco thought it was a good deal, and that Dante thought it was a trap with a bow on it.
Adrian listened the way he always did, without flinching, without interrupting, his head tilted slightly as if every word mattered. When I finally ran out of breath, he was quiet for a moment.
"Let me make sure I understand," he said, with the grave expression of a man reviewing a chart. "These weapons. Are they, by any chance, life-savi
