The Porsche glided silently around the corner of the alley, the headlights clicking off as Nash pulled into the deep shadows of an old, abandoned warehouse. Right across from them sat Hangar 47, a massive industrial building that looked like a beast in the dark.
The engine hummed for a second before Nash killed the ignition. Suddenly, the car was filled with a heavy silence, only broken by the distant, low vibration of the city's underground machinery.
Victoria sat perfectly still in the passenger seat. Her manicured fingers were gripping the fabric of her black trousers very hard.
She stared straight ahead at the dashboard, her blue eyes looking like a storm was brewing inside her. Nash had spent the drive telling her the dirty, grim truth he had squeezed out of Harlan about Hector's darkest secrets, and those words were just looping in her head over and over.
