Leon pushed the heavy door open.

The cold night air hit my face, carrying the scent of wet asphalt and river salt.

The rain was falling in thick, heavy sheets.

It blurred the yellow streetlights into long, vertical smears.

Three black, armored SUVs sat idling in the narrow alleyway.

Their exhaust pipes sent thick plumes of white steam into the dark.

Damiano held a black umbrella over my head as we walked quickly across the wet pavement.

The water splashed over my shoes, soaking through the thin leather.

He opened the door to the middle SUV and helped me inside.

The interior smelled of leather and gun oil.

Damiano climbed in beside me, closing the heavy, reinforced door.

The thud of the door shut out the sound of the rain, leaving only the deep rumble of the engine.

The driver, a broad-shouldered man named Victor, put the vehicle in gear.

We began to move, the tires splashing through the deep puddles in the alley.

I stared out the tinted window.

The neon signs of the city smeared against the wet glass like running paint.