Cyrus sneezed. The dramatic aroma of some godforsaken blend of chemicals invaded his nose and wouldn"t leave.
He shifted in the back of a beat-up sedan as it parked on the side of the road somewhere in an industrial district. The car, driven by JoJo’s chauffeur, had made so many twists and turns that Cyrus lost track of what neighborhood he was in. If he had to guess, he thought he was somewhere on the east side, south of the Chicago River. The area was all warehouses, shipping companies, and taxicab and freight company depots. The further the chauffeur drove, the more run down and dilapidated the buildings became, and the lower the sun sank in the sky, heightening Cyrus’s paranoia. Twilight was in the air, casting slanted rays of orange and gold across the street and buildings.
It didn"
