I watched Grace from the doorway of her balcony, the soft glow of the moonlight casting a serene light over her sleeping form. Her breaths were steady, her face relaxed in a way that seemed almost too vulnerable for someone who had been through so much. I took a drag from my cigarette, the smoke curling up and mingling with the cool night air.
Tony stood beside me, his posture casual but his expression focused. We were in the middle of discussing the logistics for the airstrip operation, our plans still in the early stages but already beginning to take shape.
“We need to make sure the runway is secured and that our suppliers are reliable,” Tony said, his voice low and steady. “If we’re moving high-value goods, we can’t afford any slip-ups. I’m talking guards, surveillance, everything.”
