Chapter Seventy-Four
The transition from the chaotic, dust-choked courtyard to the silent sanctuary of our upstairs bedroom felt like stepping through a heavy veil into another dimension.
Downstairs, the air had been thick with the smell of scorched gasoline, the aggressive shouting of prospects, and the tense, competitive energy that always followed a major club run. But up here, the silence was a soft, welcoming cocoon. The late afternoon sun poured through the glass panes of the window, casting long, dusty beams of deep amber and gold across the worn wooden floorboards. The room still carried the crisp, cool scent of the autumn breeze I had let in earlier to chase away the staleness, but now the air felt charged. It felt alive.
I stood near the edge of the unmade bed, my heart still
