I grabbed my bag, trying not to show the tremor in my hands. “You could have called.”
“You saw the message.”
He turned and walked toward the elevator. I followed. No one stopped us. No one even noticed.
We stepped out into the fading daylight. A black car idled by the curb. Not the sports car this time—something low and anonymous.
George opened the back door. “Get in, please.”
“Where are we going?”
“I'm taking you to Daniel.”
The car rolled through the city with the windows tinted so dark I couldn’t tell where we were heading. Traffic noises blurred into a low hum. I checked my phone. The last message still stared at me: Pack light. Temperate weather.
After twenty minutes, the car slowed and turned into an underground ramp. The air changed—cold, metallic, echoing.
We stopped besid
