The safe house sat quiet as usual under the moonlight, The same overgrown bushes the former inhabitants of the place never quite trimmed was still swallowing the roof like they were trying to hide what had already left.
Antonio stepped out of the lead SUV first, boots crunching softly on the gravel. He was particularly in No rush. No barked orders were heard either. Just the low click of car doors and the faint smell of gun, something oily and expensive cologne. Rapheal followed a half-step behind, his pretty face unreadable in the dark, but Antonio knew that stillness. It was the same one he wore when something was eating him from the inside or when the other side of him was about to take over.
"We're late," Antonio said, voice flat, he was Not angry he was Just stating facts.
