We walked past a painting of Falcone Callister seated on a throne-like chair made of gold with a lion at his side.
Rex snorted at it.
Another picture caught my eye. A smaller one with a girl, no older than five. She had on a hat way bigger than her head and gave a bright smile to the camera. A cousin or friend, I assumed.
“So that’s it then? It’s over.” I muttered to myself as we walked to the car waiting for us.
Seeing the Callisters so desperate was a picture that would be stuck in my head for a very long time.
“No, it’s far from over.” Rex said. “Run a check on everything Falcone owned, make sure it aligns with the records—”
It had all happened so fast.
A man on a bike drove past us with a weapon that had a resemblance to a gun in his hands. He aimed at Rex and shot.
“Get down.” I growled, dragging Rex down and shielding him.
The sound of a rifle tore through the air. A sniper’s bullet ripped through the attacker’s skull, sending him crashing to the ground and his bike falling over
