Matteo pov :- The alley was dead. Quiet in that scary way that made my job easier just a few people hurrying home, a cat dumpster-diving behind the cafe, and the game club across the street looking as shady as advertised. My windows were pitch black, giving me the perfect view while keeping me invisible. Beside me, Marco was sitting with his gun. Again. Ready to action. The constant click of gun was already getting on my nerves.

I checked my watch. 5:17 PM. The vintage Cartier Santos on my wrist - a "gift" from someone so special in my memories it ticked with annoying precision. I'd been parked here for three hours, waiting for this trafficking scumbag to show his face. Three weeks of chasing this lead, and finally, FINALLY, I had him cornered. Club door still since last 3 hour under the dying light of street. My third cup of coffee had gone cold two hours ago, pooling in the cup holder like something dirty. The leather of my car seat groaned every time I shifted position.