Mason
"When are we gonna tell her?" Niko asks, his eyes locked on the laptop screen, blue light reflecting off his face.
He's been digging into Senator Alder's finances for hours, his fingers flying over the keys like he can hack his way straight into the bastard's soul. Meanwhile, King and I have been combing through camera feeds—traffic lights, alleyway corners, gas stations—anything that might give us even a glimpse of what went down the night of the drop.
So far? Nothing.
Either the footage was scrubbed, or those sick f***s knew exactly how to stay hidden.
Not that there were many cameras in that part of town anyway. It's the kind of place the city pretends doesn't exist—where drug deals go down dark alleyways, and the only witnesses are junkies or corpses no one bothers to claim.
