TYRONE

The rain hadn't stopped since the meeting ended.

We were halfway back to Daxton's penthouse, but the air inside the vehicle was heavier than the clouds outside.

Daxton hadn't said a word in over twenty minutes.

He sat to my right, leaning his head against the tinted glass. His jaw was tight, his eyes half-lidded as though he was pretending to rest. But I knew better. His whole body was coiled like a live wire. He was way too tense.

I watched out of the corner ...