8:41 PM — Perez Residence, The Spires
Hector stood in front of the massive bay window of his office, a half-empty glass of scotch in his right hand. The ice cube had melted long ago, but the liquid was only half empty.
The eternal twilight of the Spires stretched out before him, as if time itself had stopped breathing up here, just for him.
His phone was on the coffee table next to his armchair, the screen still glowing from the last message he had reread twice.
He knew everything. Every single step. Every move. Monique had given him a full report an hour earlier, Jinzo was on his way, hyped out of his mind as usual; Saya was playing her part beautifully like a well-trained puppet; and Nash was about to walk right into a trap that had been crafted with almost artistic precision.
He slowly swirled the glass between his fingers, watching the amber liquid cling to the glass before sliding back down.
