Andrew didn't head home. Instead, he made his way to the Fourth District.
Perched on the mountainside, a sprawling villa stood where Tyrone was recuperating from his injuries.
Armed guards patrolled the perimeter, turning the villa into an impenetrable fortress. Not even a fly could sneak past.
The moment the guards spotted Andrew, they immediately lowered their weapons and bowed respectfully.
"Mr. Sweeney," one of them greeted him.
Andrew gave a brief nod, his face an unreadable mask.
The guards stepped aside, and he strode into the villa.
Tyrone was in the study, still recovering.
He wore a loosely tied robe, his chest exposed and his arm wrapped in bandages.
The chiseled lines of his abs peeked out from beneath the white robe.
His already sharp features had grown even more def
