The jet touched down on the Brussels runway beneath the sharp glossy grey sky. The city had looked like a canvas of contrast, where towering glass buildings cast shadows to centuries old brickwork and old cathedrals.
Connel didn't wait for the door to fully lower before stepping out. He wasn't here for pleasantries, he was here for business, control, protecting his reputation and making show Peterson paid for crossing the line.
He stepped into the waiting car with Nico beside him, they were both silent for most of the drives. They passed buildings in blur stones or glass, the journey lasting longer than expected.
The streets were clean, damp from an earlier drizzle with a scent of fresh croissants,damp stones, cigarettes and tram grease hovering through the air. The city was measured, subtle and expensive one you wouldn't notice its power or else you lived in. The city had an unexplainable kind of chill, Connel liked the feel of the weather. It prepared him for the business ahead.
The
