It was late, the kind of hour where the city felt half asleep. You walked down a narrow side street, your footsteps echoing against the brick walls. As you rounded a corner, you nearly bumped into a tall man leaning against the hood of a black car.

He didn’t flinch just lifted his gaze to meet yours. Cold, sharp eyes studied you for a moment before he spoke in a low, steady voice.

“You’re late.”

His tone carried no warmth, no hesitation, just certainty. He tucked one hand into his coat pocket. A faint smirk ghosted over his face. “...So, are you the one paying me?”