It was well past midnight in Brigantine, but lights still moved between the buildings.
There was no curfew anymore.
Under Callighan, anyone outside after a certain hour needed a reason. His men patrolled the streets, enforced his orders, and answered to him when something went wrong. People had resented those restrictions, though some had begun to understand their value only after they disappeared.
Gaspar did not care when people left their homes.
Most residents stayed inside anyway.
The men wandering the streets with weapons were largely his, and the former prisoners among them had welcomed the end of Callighan's rule with an enthusiasm that frightened everyone else. They had complained about his orders, his punishments, and his insistence that being outside a cell did not mean they could do whatever they pleased.
Now there was little to restrain them.
