The rain hadn’t stopped since midnight. It slicked the city in silver and grit, pooling beneath the streetlamps as Brandon’s car crept into the narrow alley the text had led them to. The dashboard clock blinked 2:17 a.m. Julia sat beside him, eyes darting between the fogged window and the phone clutched in her lap.
“This feels wrong,” she murmured. “People who send texts like that don’t meet in alleys.”
Brandon’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “People who have the truth don’t meet in boardrooms.”
He killed the engine. The rain’s steady whisper filled the silence between them. Ahead, a dim doorway flickered under a rusted sign that once read Storage. The accountant had chosen a place that felt as disposable as his name.
Brandon stepped out first, hood drawn low. The air smelled o
