The rain hadn’t stopped for two days.

It fell like punishment steady, unrelenting, drumming against the roof of the safehouse where Alexander sat alone in the half-dark.

He hadn’t slept since the explosion. The bandage on his shoulder was already soaked through, but the pain didn’t bother him. Pain was simple. It had boundaries. It made sense.

What didn’t make sense was trust.

He stared at the faint glow of the burner phone on the table the last message from one of his informants ...