Bruce leaned against the side of a car, holding a cigarette between his fingers, which trembled slightly. The smoke swirled in the wind, seeping into the damp sweat on his shirt. He said little, his eyes fixed on the ground, as if replaying the trajectory of every bullet fired moments ago.
Morray stood beside him, clearly not as composed. His dark eyes were filled with anxiety. He whispered, “Boss... do you think this will escalate?”
He had heard the rumors about the Las Vegas Drug Enforcement Administration. Those people—especially Carter, who had died today—were not ordinary civil servants. Carter wasn't just an agent; he was the lowest-ranking captain in the DEA's Las Vegas jurisdiction, with the authority to deploy a fully armed squad at any time.
If this had been Las Vegas instead
