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The soft hum of rain against the penthouse windows was the only sound in the room until the elevator dinged. I stood by the glass wall, a whiskey glass in one hand, my other hand tucked into my pocket. The city looked bleak tonight—like something was shifting beneath it. I felt it in his gut. Footsteps approached. Nino didn’t wait to be invited in. His hoodie was damp, his jaw tense, and I could already tell something was off before the words left his mouth. “It’s Malik.” My eyes narrowed slightly, but i didn’t speak. I just turned, slowly, letting the silence squeeze the truth out of Nino. “He cleaned out Warehouse 4,” Nino said. “The full shipment. One million’s worth, easy. And he’s gone. No trace.” The whiskey glass hit the counter harder than I meant to place it. Nino continued
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