Across from him, Kael didn't look up from his chrome-plated 9mm. He just nodded to the rhythm. The track was a "Criminal 2022" special—ugly, jagged, and unapologetic. It didn't need a piano loop to tell a story; the empty space between the kicks said enough. It was the sound of a heist in progress, the soundtrack to a shadow moving across a security cam. The beat dropped into a stuttering roll. "Time," Kael said, his voice flat.
"You hear that?" Elias muttered, his thumb twitching against the door handle. "That’s the sound of a debt being collected." Across from him, Kael didn't look up from
The bass doesn't just hit; it bruises. In the concrete labyrinth of the Eastside, the silence is a luxury no one can afford. Across from him