Alexander
The city glittered beyond the windows of my apartment. New York, a big, intimidating city…
I looked at the cars and they told me: people are never still… Not even at this hour of the night.
The lights of the buildings seemed suspended in the darkness as I sat on my living room sofa, an untouched glass of whiskey between my fingers, my mind far away.
I hadn't put on any music, hadn't turned on the television. I was just sitting… thinking. Thinking about Hale… About Clara. About that damn conversation at the Black Club.
I leaned my head back and slowly ran a hand over my chin, tracing my beard with my fingers as I tried to reconstruct every step I had taken in Boston. Every conversation, every document, every move.
Did she really have proof?
I frowned.
Proof of what
