Nobody slept. Not really. People closed their eyes, people sat in chairs and people leaned against walls.
People pretended exhaustion would eventually drag them under. But nobody truly slept. Not after Vincent's phone call.
Not after learning Razor finally had a location. The man had haunted our lives for months, and he had left bodies, fires, betrayals, and graves behind him everywhere he went.
Now we finally had a chance to end it. The war room inside the safehouse was packed before sunrise.
Maps covered every available surface, and weapons sat beside coffee cups while laptops glowed across the table.
Knox stood at the head of the room and Roman stood beside him while Vincent occupied the opposite side.
For once, nobody was arguing and that alone felt strange and I took a seat near
