Marco's car had stopped at an angle across both lanes, and through its rear window I could see him, still in the driver's seat, he was not moving, and both hands visible on the wheel. Beside him in the passenger seat where nobody had been sitting when we left the estate was a man I didn't recognise, he had a gun resting casually against his own knee, watching Marco with the patient boredom of someone doing a job they'd done many times before.
"He's not hurt," Dorian said quietly, before I could ask, his eyes fixed on the lead car, reading something in the stillness of it that I couldn't, "if he were hurt, they wouldn't need to sit so close. They got in while we were stopped at the junction. Probably while we were all looking at the registry call."
"While we were distracted," I said.
"Ev
